Trash Fishing

I recently spent the morning with a friend at the wildlife refuge. We had gone to watch the sun rise, and maybe try a little fishing before we began our business for the day. The sun never really came up, it just illuminated the thick gray clouds that blanketed the sky. Twenty-knot winds made any type of fishing other than trash fishing pretty much out of the question. We got out at several places and watched the fish we’d try to catch had either of us remembered to bring a rod. We found lots of trash. I don’t think it was a coincidence that where we saw fish, we saw trash.

We loaded up on trash fish. I was doing quite well with slot size beer cans. The numbers were there even if they were of no size. Meanwhile Rodney was struggling with a giant cast net for what seemed like an hour. He finally landed it and since there was no size or bag limit we decided to keep it all. I scored high on a sun bleached Florida Gators cup, and Rodney kept pace by finding three glass bottles hiding in the overgrown grass not ten feet from a sign announcing a certain group’s dedication to cleaning up that stretch of road three times a year.

A massive tire showed itself, but neither of us could reach it with our gear. We made a mental note of where it lives though and won’t go back under gunned next time. That tire is going to be ours, oh yes it is. Not sure how we’ll score that on the official score board, that’s going to be a team effort.

At another spot we spied the mother lode, a whole school of beer cans. Unfortunately, a very large, very fat alligator and a school of baby tarpon guarded them. Neither of us was feeling that froggy at the moment. Next time, though, when that alligator is gone, and after I’ve caught one or two of those tarpon, those cans are MINE!