The View from Splinter Cottage

Of course, Shad Haulers take only Shad. The rest are returned to the river. One by one. Each with a shout of type for the record keeper. “Bass”, “Catfish”, “Sucker”, “carp”, “gizzard.” And then flung up through the air, to fly for the first time into the sunset, before splashing home once again. This is Finious’s time. His manner is studied. Perhaps a little rehearsed. As the fish move skyward: he barks. Almost sounding like a staccato: “Your fired!”