Fishing in the dark dirty meaning
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I gently held the line, until I felt the telltale tug that prompted me to grab the branch and sprint up the beach. I would throw the bait as far as I could, which probably wasn’t that far, but then it didn’t really matter.
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I didn’t have a fishing pole, so that day, my dad cut a long willow branch, to which he added fishing line, a lead sinker and red-and-white bobber, and a worm on a hook. Sand gathered on the outside of the sharpest bends, creating beaches like the one we called the Sandbar, where we fished and played and picnicked and camped. The culvert had been built to divert the Animas’ floodwaters under the highway that led to Durango, five miles to the south, but to a 6-year-old boy, it felt like the gates to the underworld.īeyond the culvert, the river ran slow, lazing through sandbanks and wetlands and cottonwood groves, bending back on itself, as though to rest from its tumultuous southward tumble from the nearby San Juan Mountains.
FISHING IN THE DARK DIRTY MEANING PATCH
We ambled past a raspberry patch and cornfield, then the low, whitewashed milk house and the rickety hay barn, through a gaping, dank culvert. My father led my older brother and I on a walk, stopping occasionally to point out a stalk of asparagus just gone to seed, a red-tailed hawk floating overhead, telling us what it was and looking at us with warm brown eyes to make sure we understood. I was maybe 6 years old, and the pungent aroma of the season’s first cutting of hay still lingered in the air on my grandparents’ farm in the Animas River Valley in southwest Colorado. With water filled with slime and poison, carrying qualities which destroy all agricultural values of ranchers irrigated therefrom, it will be truly a river of lost souls.” -Durango Wage Earner, 1907 “The farmers along the Animas River are sitting down and permitting the waters of that river to be so tainted and polluted as that soon it will merit the name of Rio de las Animas Perdidas, given it by the Spaniards.