WISHEN FISHEN With Uncle Helmer

The pigs and chickens could wait. Uncle Helmer was weary of the work it took to put the ham and eggs on the table. Tonight he would have biscuits and fresh salmon steak! A man would have to be crazy not to take time out for fishing on a cold clear autumn morning like this one.

In one motion, Helmer hitched up his wagon and his bib overalls, lashed down his gear, pulled himself up in the seat of the buck board and settled in for a snooze. His ole mule Ginny knew where they were headed; she'd already been up there a time or two. She pulled up, still far enough from the stream so as not to spook them fishy critters, and let old Helmer off.
By lantern light old Helmer rigged up his cane pole, took a long pull off his hip flask, then went clamoring over the wet slippery rocks down stream side to his favorite place in life. His "honey hole"
Through the darkness he could hear those big "son's of guns" jumping and splashing underneath an old willow bush that always hung over the fishing hole just across the other side of the stream.

Everything was ready. He let out a little line, set his drag, then sent out a time perfected cast that slipped his lure under that old willow bush and into the water with not so much as a splash. In a moment he'd have on a great big ocean going Chinook Salmon, so fresh it would be covered with sea lice, and as big as a man's leg and bright as a silver dollar.
Through the dark he felt his lure drift out of the pool. No fish; HUH!
So he cast again, then again and still another time, then again without so much as a bump.

Just past dawn a flock of ducks came winging by at water level. One of them slammed into his line and for a moment Helmer's pounding heart thought they were in business. Too bad Helmer hadn't brought his shotgun. A wild duck would go in the fry pan just about as well with the biscuits.

By now, the sun was steaming the rocks dry, but still no fish lay on the bank for Helmer's dinner. He's tried just about everything in his tackle box including his "Jackie Catch All" which is a modified 6" Silver Doctor tied with jack rabbit fur. He can't even hook up with the ultimate weapon, a lure Helmer named the "LAST SUPPER"

By late morning, Helmer became down right despondent, his interest wained until his eyes wandered onto a huge bull frog sunning himself there on a flat rock. "Frog Legs" Helmer thought as he took aim with a well chosen throwing stone. The frog made a quick leap toward the safety of the stream. Out of the blue, that poor old frog is caught in mid-air by a ravenous fifty pound Chinook Salmon, leaving nothing more than a splash, a swirl of water, and a fantastic idea in Helmer's mind. Them fish is feeding on frogs! Great big live five pound bull frogs!

For the next two hours Helmer stalked the marshes and back waters for a mile up and down the stream with no luck at finding another frog.
Now, almost defeated he spotted a six foot bull snake with a conspicuous struggling bulge in his throat. Helmer, knowing the ways of the snake, recognized that this bulge was potential bait for his fishing.

Helmer snuck up on the fat lazy snake and caught him easily. Then he began robbing that old snake of his helpless meal. That crafty old snake fought for all he was worth. It was a lot easier for him to catch a frog than it had been for Uncle Helmer but by Gawd he had his frog and he meant to keep it. Besides, it was nap time and no self respecting bull snake was going to let a drunken old fisherman like Helmer disturb him from his due. He spit and writhed and wiggled like snakes do and almost got away a time or two. By and By the frogs legs appeared and Helmer plucked that grateful frog from the snakes mouth.

That old snake was naturally quite furious, and he began to coil and strike like a rattler. Helmer feared soon he'd be bit by those blunt infectious teeth.
So, being the quick thinker that he was Helmer pulled that old hip flask from his hip pocket and filled that snakes mouth with some good body-warming brandy. Delighted with the treat the snake crawled off.

That left Helmer with the problem of how to tie a struggling live five pound bull frog to his line so that it could swim naturally across the stream and still not let the hooks hurt the frog, yet be exposed enough to set one of them into the jaw of one of those great big Chinook Salmons.

Just when he was coming up with the idea of using some green yarn and a half hitch he felt a strong tug on the pant leg of his overalls! He shook his leg loose from what at first seemed like a pesky bush. In a moment another tug almost pulled his britches clean off him.

He looked down and there was that drunken bull snake with another frog!