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Posted by MFish


Posted by MFishProfile 08/15/20 at 10:41PM 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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