Call Me Fishmeal
Once at my brother’s, we drew beverages and strolled back to the pond he put in several years ago. He meticulously built up a fish ecosystem, and now can catch dinner from among bluegill, bass and (maybe?) crappie. But he’s harboring (!) a dark secret in its depths, one that, if uncovered, would cause his banishment from the brotherhood of southern sportsmen. Because of the anonymity of the internet, I can divulge it here: he has befriended, and somehow domesticated, a largemouth bass he calls “Shamu”.
As he sprinkles feed pellets on the surface of the pond, Shamu breaches and, Moby Dick-like, casts a watery eye at him before rolling over and sounding. Shamu’s done OK for himself in this relationship - he’s grown to a pretty hefty size. As we circumambulate the pond, Shamu shadows us a few feet from shore, even though we throw no more feed on the trip around.
Here’s a video of the leviathan as he cavorts, puppy-like, for our pleasure. (about 4mb - have your speakers on!)
