The Fish

D. E. Larsen, DVM

It was getting late in the evening when the phone rang. I looked at Sandy and frowned. A call at this hour on a Thursday night could only be an emergency.

“Are you going to answer it?” Sandy asked.

With a bit of reluctance, I got up and walked over to the phone. Not a fast walk, I was hoping it would stop ringing.

“Hello,” I said. “This is Dr. Larsen.”

“That’s pretty formal, talking to your brother,” Gary said. “I know it’s late, but I was just talking with Marty, and they are catching a lot of salmon over in the bay at Empire. We plan to put the boat in the water and fish on Saturday. I just thought you might want to come along.”

“This isn’t going to be like the last time, is it?” I asked. “Like when they were catching fish like mad on Wednesday, but when I got down there on Saturday, there were no fish.”

“The bay is full of fish returning to that commercial hatchery they built a few years ago,” Gary said. “They collected their quota, and the state made them close their gate for a full week. These fish have nowhere to go until they open those gates on Tuesday. There will be a lot of fish, but we should get some.”

“Are you going to have enough room for me to bring a kid to two along?” I asked. 

“Yes, Aaron’s busy and the girls aren’t interested, so there is plenty of room,” Gary said.

“Do I need to pick up some eggs, or anything?” I asked.

“They are using Buzz Bombs with a lot of success,” Gary said.

“Never heard of those things,” I said. 

“They are new, sort of wobbling lure,” Gary said. “You need to pick up several at a sporting goods store. They come in several sizes, get the biggest ones they have. Everyone is saying pink is the hottest color.”

“Okay, I will talk with you when we get to the folks,” I said. “I am guessing that Derek and Dee will want to fish.”

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At noon on Friday, I stopped at DanDee Sales in Sweet Home. 

“I’m looking for some large pink Buzz Bombs,” I told the clerk.

“These things are pretty popular right now,” the clerk said. “They are using them in the bays this year. I only have four pink ones left, and they are the large, four-inch ones.”

“I’ll take all four,” I said. “Maybe I should ask what the cost is?”

“They are five and a half dollars each,” the clerk said.

“No wonder my brother wanted me to buy them,” I said. “Twenty-two dollars to maybe catch a fish. I don’t think that pencils out very well.”

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Saturday morning came, and it was hard getting Derek and Dee up. They were tired from the 3-hour drive from Sweet Home to Broadbent, and they didn’t have to drive.

We got to Gary’s just as he was finishing loading the boat.

“I see some things never change,” Gary said. “You show up after all the work is done.”

“My passengers slowed me down a bit,” I said. “We were a little late getting out of the clinic. So that put us in to the folks at almost ten.”

We loaded into his old pickup and stopped in Myrtle Point to pick up Marty. It was a cool fall morning, but no rain. It should be a good day of fishing.

Just as Gary had warned, the bay was full of boats, and they all circled the entrance to the commercial hatchery.

We found our spot in the circle and set up to catch a bunch of fish. Gary gave a brief lesson on Buzz Bomb fishing to Dee and Derek.

“Cast this as fast as you can, let it settle to the bottom, then retrieve it in slow jerks,” Gary instructed. “Reel it up six or eight feet, then let it fall. Repeat that until you get it in. The bite will come as this falls back toward the bottom. It has a lot of action as it falls. Do you know how to cast, Derek?”

Derek looked annoyed at that question. He was only ten years old, but he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t fish.

“Yes, I can cast,” Derek said.

With that, the fishing started. And turn to form, there were no fish today. I watched the other boats. Nobody was catching fish.

Then, all of a sudden, just as Derek was pulling his Buzz Bomb out of the water, this massive salmon was after it, right at the edge of the boat. It looked like Derek just pulled the lure out of the fish’s mouth.

Derek saw the fish also. He instantly cast the Buzz Bomb right back into the water, about fifteen feet from the edge of the boat. The salmon immediately took the lure and dove toward deep water, stripping line off the reel.

Derek was able to hold him up a bit on this initial run, but it was evident that the water was too crowded to land this fish in this lineup of boats.

“Is that a big fish?” Gary asked.

“It’s a big chinook,” Marty said. “I got a good look at it. I think we should lead it out to the middle of the bay, where we will have room to get it in the boat.”

We pulled up the anchors and headed out to open water. Who was leading whom was an open question. This fish was headed out to deeper water, and we followed.

“Keep a tight line,” I reminded Derek. “And take up as much line as you can.”

Derek struggled to keep control of the fish. He was doing well, but tiring some.

“You know, you are going to have to take that pole sometime,” Gary said to me as we maneuvered the boat out to the middle of Coos Bay.

“I’m not taking that pole,” I said. “He is going catch that fish, or lose it, all on his own.”

The fight went on for a good twenty minutes. Finally, the fish was close to the surface, allowing us to get a good look at it.

“This is a big fish,” Marty said to Gary as he got ready with the net. “It’s almost dead in the water.”

With that statement, Derek leaned over the boat to look.

“It’s okay,” Marty said. “Just reel him in a little more, and I’ll get him in the net.”

The fish was played out, Marty scooped him into the net and put him in the bottom of the boat. Derek put his rod down, sat down, and looked at his tired hands. He had outlasted the fish, but not by much.

We fished the rest of the morning, with limited success. Marty managed to catch a nice salmon. It looked small lying beside Derek’s chinook in the fish box.

We stopped at the tackle shop in Coquille on the way and weighed Derek’s fish. It tipped the scales at thirty-five pounds. Pretty good for a ten-year-old kid.

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The following week, I bumped into Jim Riggs, the principal at Foster Elementary School.

“Derek came through the front door with a pretty broad smile on Monday,” Jim said. “He had quite a fish story. Lucky kid, I wish I could catch a fish like that.”

“It might prove to be a two-edged sword,” I said. “He will spend a lifetime trying to match something that probably only happens once in a lifetime.”

Photo Credit: Kathy Larsen