Hank Huntington: The Other Side of the Story

My good friend Sandra Nelson owner of Sandra Nelson Advertising in Minneapolis, Minn. sent this story. This is from the fish's perspective. Enjoy, she has a lot of talent.

The Other Side of the Story

I’ve been livin’ in and around Elbow Lake for darn near a decade. That’s in people years; in fish years, I’m pushing 40 and not looking back. Fred’s my name, “hammer handle’s” my stock.

Northern Pike

Most of my buddies have gone on to fish heaven, thanks to John and Elsie who have a remarkable knack with a rod and reel. Doesn’t seem to matter what they use to tantalize us. It’s their fishin’ panache that’s hard to resist.

Take John. When he casts out his line, he stretches over his Crestliner boat like a ballet star, arms akimbo, one foot firmly planted and the other dancin’ in mid-air, slithering like an eel. We’ve nicknamed John the “seducer” because he purrs like a cat, lickin’ his lips between soft groans, grunts and murmurs. We’re not sure if it’s ecstasy comin’ off that grandfatherly face or indigestion, but no matter, John’s one fine catch.

Elsie, on the other hand, is the meticulous one. She baits her hook like she’s threading a fine string of pearls. Eyes all asquint, face puckered up, she stabs those succulent kernels of corn one by one, then arranges them just so. When her hook comes hurling at us, it’s like a piece of art lookin’ for an extra special place to call home. I’ve never succumbed to John and Elsie’s wiles, but I’ve come close.

Crappie

Take that fishing opener back in ‘67. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the water was as pure as the stuff that comes from that place in the French Alps. There was no goin’ for cover that day; we were like sittin’ ducks waiting for our number to be up. All of a sudden John leaps off the seat and does one of his famous whirligig maneuvers. We draw straws, I cross my fins, gulp and think to myself, no way am I ending up on a plaque over Elsie’s dining room table. Well, my luck ran out that gorgeous May day and I bit down on that ole hook and hung on for dear life. For a while I let John have some fun. He reeled and reeled and I let myself get up real close, damn near eye to eye. Just when he was about to take his last big pull, I took off like a bat outta hell. If I could’ve seen the look on John’s face, I’m sure it would’ve brought on a case of the guilts. But I just kept on going, ziggin’ and zaggin’ all around that boat. When I slowed down for a breather, John started reeling again, but I could tell this time his energy’s almost spent. The moment of decision had arrived. Do I give him another run or snap off that line and call it the day John almost landed the big one?