Written by Max Harkness, age 12
[Editor’s Note: Proud mom Cynthia Harkness—who works at the Orvis store in Dedham, Massachusetts—sent in this great story, written by her 12-year-old son Max for his first writing assignment for the 6th-grade English class. We present Max’s work here, unedited.]
The sounds of the birds chirp, chirp chirping fills me with joy and relaxation when I go fishing. I love seeing the smiles and hearing the chuckles of my fellow fishermen along with me. After all this relaxation, bang! A big hit. “Fish on!”, I yell. Then when I finally reel the fish in I feel its smooth slimy trout skin. I pose for a picture, making sure I push the fish forward so it looks bigger. When it is a catch and release fishing day, I let it swim away into the rushing stream it calls home.
I love seeing the fish in the calmer areas of water minding their own business. I try to aim my casts right over their faces so they can take a whack at my bait. I like when I walk into the cold water and feel the dirt cover my feet. As I step out further I face the warm sun and get warmed up quickly. When fish rise and jump all over I get frustrated seeing them but not catching them. Finally after a long day of fishing I wash off my slimy hands. They smell bad but remind me of how many fish I caught. Next, my Dad fillets the fish and we have a tasty and rewarding fish fry. We tell stories. Laugh. Talk. Share pictures and thank each other for coming to another great fishing day.