Perch With A Story

Was down at the creek - actually a tiny washout that goes to Clear Creek.  Two kids, brother and sister, about 10 and 12, biked by, stopped and said, "I didn't know you could fish here."  They walked up and asked if there were any fish where I was.  I said, "Well, I have caught a couple in here, but nothing --- "  Mid-sentence, a fish hit.  I said, "Well, there's one right there!"  It was pretty exciting as I brought it in.

It was a small perch.  It had a couple gashes on it.  I pointed at the scars and said, "There's bigger fish in here."

The girl asked what kinda fish it was.  I said, "I think it's a perch."  The boy asked, "What's a perch?"  I held it up and said, "This." (I've thought about this for the last hour - why did he ask such an obvious question?  What did he mean?  Why was I so punctual about holding it up and saying, "This."? as if I wanted to say reality is wiggling in my hand.  As if his question was bookish, like a perch is a such and such of the such and such family of fish species...  As if to say, I am sick of simulation --- go catch a fish, boy... is that what I mean???)

Then I imagined having a conversation with the fish, "What bit you?"  "How did you get away???"  The perch's story was lively - a life and death struggle.  It beat all the stories from fishermen (except for the old man and the sea ;-)