Enjoying a fresh a fresh cup of coffee before the kids awaken often allows me to ponder a few random thoughts. Sometimes they are meaningless thoughts about the birds and squirrels I see or maybe reflections of life in general. This morning I am sitting here thinking of how my two boys have fallen in love with catching fish...any kind of fish. It is a joy to watch them interact at a creek or river while on the quest for the next fish. Their enthusiasm constantly inspires me!
Case's first name is actually "Brazos" which is the longest river in TX as well as the name of the county in which he was born. The early Spanish explorers called it "Rio de los Brazos de Dios" translated as "The River of the Arms of God". It flows approximately eight hundred forty miles through the center of Texas and is mentioned in many songs form all genres of music from Lyle Lovett to ZZ Top. A battle between the Texas Navy and the Mexican Navy was fought on the Brazos during the Texas Revolution as well. It is dammed in three places and runs along side nineteen major reservoirs before it empties into the gulf near Freeport, TX. In Brazos County, TX there was one historic event that I haven't read about in a book.
I had heard that many monster size Catfish called the Brazos River home, and had seen evidence along fences near the river. Locals displayed their trophies by hanging big fish heads over their fence posts. Valerie and I decided to see if we could catch a monster so we headed to a friend's farm that would give us access. Here, the Brazos River cut through fields and pastures and had muddy steep banks with many fallen trees. A few head of cattle took shelter nearby as we walked through the woods with our fishing poles. There were feral hogs all over the river valley so we took our guard dog, "Gretta Bean" just in case.
Gretta Bean was a mighty black and tan hound that stood a full eight inches tall and measured over a foot long. There was never a slice of Granny Smith Apple or any pecan half that she didn't tear to pieces and devour. It is safe to say that we were protected.....from apples and pecans maybe...
Val and I grew up in Tennessee near the same town and went to the same schools. We were both as country as jelly beans but I was around cattle a lot and had zero fear of the bovine critters. I was about to discover that Valerie and I did not share in this same temperament! As we walked up and down the edge of the high bank searching for a place to fish, a distant bull screeched. The screech I am talking about is the classic high pitched "whoooooooh" that you hear them do all the time. "What in the heck was that?" she exclaimed. "A bull" I said without looking at her or breaking my stride. After she asked me a time or two more, I paused to reassure here that he wasn't close and that there was no danger. I did notice that here eyes had gotten sort of big and she had taken the persona of a very paranoid individual.
After a few minutes the bull "whoooooohed" a few more times as we walked passed cows on our search for water access. By this time,Val had gotten plain old skittish. She was looking from side to side and creeping like she was stalking a cougar or something! Our attack hound, Gretta, was happily trotting ahead of us sniffing all things stinky. I must say that I was amused at Val's obvious fear of the distant bull. O Father forgive me for I could not resist the temptation to be mischievous! I fell behind her a few steps and just kept chatting with her from behind. When the bull screeched again she asked "Can you see the bull yet?". I didn't answer her. I just paused a second or two and then sprinted past her. As I passed, I was looking backwards over my shoulder and exclaimed, "You Better Run!" in my most fearful voice. The next few seconds made Brazos River history...
I will tell you that it doesn't really matter how short your legs are. If you have the proper motivation, you can run FAST! Before I even had my head turned back around straight, Val had sprinted passed me, reached down and scooped Gretta Bean up, and was melting the soles off of her shoes. Before she reached the next zip code she turned to see if I was close behind. What she saw was me gasping on my hands and knees laughing uncontrollably. The bull was still off in the distance but he stopped screeching and started laughing too! As soon as the color returned to my beautiful wife's face, she chuckled a little in between all of the threats she was shouting at me.
I don't even remember wetting a line that day. If we did, we certainly didn't catch a fish! What would life be without a little light hearted humor? We need to remember to live in the "now" and try to make every single day one worth writing a story about. If we do this, it will keep our perspective and maybe make our history books a little bit thicker!
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