When I was a kid about 10, my brother and I would go fishing or
hunting with BB guns. There was a stock
tank in the pasture behind out house. If
you crossed the road and walked about a quarter of a mile, the pond was hidden
in some tree. It was built for the cows
to have water and it was stocked with fish.
We would hold the barbed wire up so the other brother could safely pass
through the fence without ripping the back of our shirts. We were not supposed to be on some one else’s
property but we never saw anyone there, only cows. We didn’t even know who the property belonged
to. We often talked about trying to camp over night, but we never did. It was probably best that we did not. There could have been coyotes at night. We would walk through the field of mesquite
brush and wild grass all while avoiding the cactus. We would carry or BB guns
or fishing poles. We would walk up the embankment to the pond
and survey to make sure it was safe. The
cows had left hoof prints along the muddy red shore and you could see the beat
down trails down to the water’s edge. The
water was clear as it got deeper. In the shallow, you could see minnows and
small fish. The large willow trees gave shade over parts of the water. This was a perfect spot to fish. We caught bass or perch using the worms we
has dug at home. A few times, we would reel in a snapping
turtle who had taken the baited hook. They
could be mean when pulled out of the water, and it was often better to just cut
the line rather than battle over the hook.
The turtle would return the water.
We used our BB guns to shoot cans, or trees across the
pond. My mother told us never to shoot
birds. It was fun and being with my
brother made me feel like someone liked me. We would spend hours there. We would
walk home if it got too hot or if the sun was going down.
For my brother who passed away in Dec 8th. 2015.
