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Posted by MFish


Posted by MFish Profile 08/15/20 at 10:41PM Share Life Stories See more by MFish

Water rushing down the bed of rocks.
The sounds that come from water noise,
brings back the memories, of long ago,
when I, a young boy, not a man,
would grab my fishing pole, dig up
some worms; placing in an
old, Prince Albert tobacco tin.
A can that fit perfectly in a shirt pocket.
I would take my fishing creel, hop
on my bicycle, riding to the
area nearby where I believed
I could catch some fish.
Fishing, to me, was a relaxing way
to be alone and away from crowds,
other children or adults.
The quiet serenity of "stalking the
native Rainbow Trout, was mine.
I don't recall catching a trout, but do
remember catching "Bullheads", as
we called them. A small fish that
looked like a Catfish.
I would release them back into the stream.
The creek I fished came down the hill, in
the Riverton Heights area, from Highway 99,
ending at the Duwamish River. The stream
had turned into a ditch as it passed through,
The Golden Arrow Dairy pasture, which is
close to the north end of the South Center Mall.
A great memory, coming from this old mind
of mine. Long may I remember.

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