Читать книгу Never Cry Halibut. and Other Alaska Hunting and Fishing Tales онлайн

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Thinking about it now, I can’t recall my dad ever swearing except for when he lost fish. Well, there was the time my mom attacked a full-grown black bear with a broom because it was trying to take a bag of flour from her mudroom pantry. The horrified bear left the flour on the shelf and dashed into the forest. There ought to be a “Forget the Gun and the Dog, Beware of the Woman with a Broom” sign posted on the door of my folk’s house. Let that be a warning to any burglars considering raiding my mom’s pantry. Though small, she’s a ball of fury and will attack you.

Me, age five, fighting something much bigger and more dangerous than any known fish. (Photo courtesy of Lynnette Dihle)

Through the years, I’ve become pretty good at dressing and acting like a halibut fisherman. My sweatpants and fleece are usually coated with a mixture of crusty salt and slime. I’m not the best, but I’m fairly decent when it comes to swearing, lying, and telling stories. After all, fishing is mostly about fooling other fisherman that you caught more and bigger fish than they did. I work hard but rarely get much done. One might say I’m the ideal fisherman, except that I lack the ability to catch fish, particularly halibut.