Jaybird wasted no time rowing toward his ancient pickup on the distant shore. Not once did he look back; he would not be defeated again. He’d seen the last of a fish no man could catch
Deep down in his mute, cool, dimly lit domain, the monarch of the Mississippi Delta swamp hole lay in patient ambush while the terrified shiner just inches above him swam round and round in frantic arcs, desperately struggling to break free of its tether to the red and white bobber floating on the surface.
My mentor and boyhood best friend Jaybird relaxed, mopped his sweaty brow, and set his pole aside for a while.
