Warning: Graphic narration
Experience is the greatest teacher.
Anyone who enjoys the sport of fishing can relate to the frustration of spending entire days without catching a single fish, so it is understandable why after three full days spent fishing by the sunny shoreline of the Connecticut River without catching a single fish had left me desperate to find some action. With hands tired from casting and reeling to no avail, I wove fresh bait onto my hook and with a tired sigh I cast again.
Several years ago, I had only just begun to explore the sport of fishing upon receiving the gift of a beautiful rod and reel and after stocking up on some great lures, bait, weights, and high quality fishing line. I had been fishing before with my father many years ago, but I had never personally claimed and cleaned my own fish for frying, I had been a strictly catch and release fisher. But I was determined to catch and prepare a fish for dinner on my own as a new accomplishment and had watched several videos on how to properly de-bone, scale, and cook the fish. But despite all of my preparations I still encountered a major oversight.
Reeling in my line again for a countless time, the hook was roughly snagged as the fresh bait trailed in the murky water. At first I believed it had become tangled in the underwater greenery once again, until I felt thrashing and pulses of energy coiling from the opposite end of the line. Adrenaline rushing, excited to finally have a live fish on the end of my line after three full days, I battled with the fish for several minutes to bring it in to the rocky and rough shoreline around any possible obstacles. Miraculously, I was able to guide the fish into the shore after a rough battle of will. Lifting it up from the riverside I finally got a look at my adversary, which was a large brightly scaled greenish-blue carp. I was thrilled to have finally caught a fish whom I deemed worthy of being prepared for the skillet. But it was at the moment I realized my oversight. I had walked to the river that day carrying my fishing pole, tackle box, and small plastic lunchbox and had no means to transport the fish back home.
At this point, I had three options. First, I could throw the fish back and return another day better prepared, but I was far too proud of my catch to even consider this at the time. Secondly, I could allow the fish to suffocate as I walked home meaning that the fish would be dead but the death would be slow and lingering, which I disliked the idea of. Lastly, the idea which made the most sense to my young and inexperienced mind, I concocted a brilliant scheme to bring the fish back to my home alive by dumping out the contents of my plastic lunch box and filling it with river water as a temporary habitat to transport the fish. Filling up my lunchbox with the reeking green river water, I carefully unhooked the fish and dropped it tenderly into my lunchbox where it uncomfortably squirmed but was able to survive until I returned home.
Once home, my inexperience became apparent as I realized that I had watched videos on how to clean and prepare the fish for cooking, but I had no idea how to actually KILL the fish. One online suggestion recommended letting the fish slowly suffocate to avoid breaking any of the bones, which could be harmful to the cooking process, but I disliked that idea. In my adrenaline fueled mind, the idea of using a knife or sharp tool for swift decapitation completely escaped me. Instead, an online post struck me as suggesting the best option available to me: A mallet. This is where the story becomes a bit gruesome, but not in cruelty. I struggled with guilt and indecisiveness, but was determined to follow my family legacy of outdoors-man skills by accomplishing this for myself.
Retrieving a wide metal ball-peen hammer from the toolbox in our garage, I prepared a spot on a plastic picnic table outside in our backyard. The fish was dormant in the lunchbox but writhed as I struggled to remove it and rest it on the table. Eventually it lie still on the table top, but the large black eye stared at me in anticipation. Overcome by feelings of guilt, I retrieved a small workshop towel from the garage and draped it over the fish's head so I would not have to see the eye, and the fish would not see what was happening. In one fatal strike, without including unnecessarily gruesome detail, the fish was dead instantly. I was glad to have given the fish a swift death and proceeded with the next steps of cleaning, scaling, and preparing the body to be cooked. Carefully following the steps as I read, I was able to successfully clean the fish, batter it in flour and spices, and fry it on the stove top inside. The meal was excellent and none of it went to waste, since that is an agreement in our family: if we kill it, we eat it.
All in all, despite being inexperienced, I was able to accomplish what I wanted to do. I was able to catch, kill, clean, and cook a fish for the first time on my own. This, to me, was not only to cook an excellent meal but also a challenge to myself to learn this survival skill and to carry on a family tradition. Since that time I have returned to catching and releasing anything fish simply to enjoy the sport leisurely, but I am proud that I was able to teach myself these skills and to accomplish something I had been determined to do.
For any who also enjoys fishing and wishes to attempt to clean and cook their own catches, I ask that you please carefully follow an experienced fisher's guidance in the preparation since it could be dangerous to eat a fish that has not been properly cleaned. I also ask that you follow a guideline which myself and my family all abide by to avoid senseless killing: if you kill it, eat it. Do not let a life or food go to waste if you can help it. If you kill something with the intention to eat it, prepare it carefully and do not let excess go to waste in respect for the animal's life. I advocate fishing and hunting, but not the senseless taking of lives for amusement. Have fun but be responsible.
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