The Atlantic Salmon

(A writing to Dewey Gillespie from a very respected friend AJH)


For hours salmon may lie like sunken logs in a great muttering Salmon River, ignoring fluttering live flies as well as ornate and fanciful artificials.  When it is interested in something carried by the current it tilts upward very slightly and its fins move a little faster.  Today this happens after the fish has seen a hundred casts.  On another the fisherman succeeds.  After the salmon has shattered the river, flashed high in the air against a dark green background of conifers, and is landed on a gravel bar, the fisherman studies the graceful shape of the small, angry head.  The fisherman is awed that he has caught this gleaming thing that came back to its river of birth from far and unknown places.