A week or so ago I social distanced on the bank of Lake Eufaula in a lawn chair.
I’d sat there for a while, with a can of worms on the ground, a pink rod and reel in one hand and a phone in the other.
My sister was on the other end of the line so she could look at the lake while she cooked supper for her family.
She had just shown me a piece of bacon when something strange happened.
I got a bite.
I haven’t fished a lot in the last few years, and when I fish bites are rare because I’m not a great fisherman.
If the object were to lose your hook, weights and cork when you break your line on a tree limb, I’d be a great fisherman.
I had my hook, weights and cork this time, and there was a fish on the line so I did the only thing I could do in such a situation.
I threw the phone in the dirt.
I reeled in the fish, which was a catfish.
It put up a small, but fun, fight in the water.
It put up a bigger one on land.
The fish laid on the bank at the water line while I put my reel and rod down to go get it.
I got scared it’d flop off the hook into the water before I could get proof I caught it so I flung it farther back into some weeds and went to get the stringer.
The hook was not straightened and it came out easy, which great fishermen say is good.
I admired my catch until it tail-slapped me in the face.
This was the most recent story on my mind when I saw “bite” is today’s WordPress Discover prompt, but there have been others.
I was bitten by an emu at the zoo when I was young, but I don’t remember much about it because emus are the stuff of nightmares and I tried to block it out.
Years ago, my grandparents put a Jericho donkey in their pasture and named him Jack.
He was aptly named.
Once, I fed him an apple.
I had only one, but he was still hungry when it was gone and he got ornery.
He chomped at the air several times, and once toward a rather sensitive part of my person, but I escaped unharmed.
I was mad at him when it happened, but I’m older now and I realize it wasn’t fair to blame him because sometimes I, too, get ornery when my food is gone.
It’s rare there are any bites of food left when I’m done.
It happens on occasion, though.
I couldn’t take enough bites of a 28-inch pizza when I failed the Cici’s Pizza challenge, and I couldn’t finish a humongous plate of nachos in New Mexico.
I’ve gone and made myself hungry with all of these thoughts about food.
I think I’ll go get a bite of my supper.