A new sound broke across my ears awaking me from the trance I had fallen. Up roared a small, purple truck with loud music pouring through the open windows. Coming to a stop, out jumped a shirtless young man with sun glasses on. "So much for the peace and quiet.", I grumbled to myself. Not wanting to stare; I turned back around and pretended to be interested in a Dragonfly idling near the waters edge. Just as I turned back around for another peek; I saw the young man pull a large bow and arrow from the bed of his truck. Only there was a strong connected to the arrow and then back to a spool on the bow. "At least he is a bow-fisherman." I thought. I was relieved and thought, "He won't just be sitting there, but he'll go out in the water and away from me." We exchange pleasantries as he passed me and started to wade into the murky waters. It was then that I realized he may be providing some photographic opportunities, and suddenly I was so thankful that he was there.
Silently out into the water he stole, crouched over like he was carrying a heavy burden. Each footstep quietly breaking the surface, but churning up the chocolate, earthen, river bottom. His direction suddenly changed back toward a now visible shape hovering in the shallows. Intuitively he placed the arrow against the guide as he approached his target. He stopped and the arch in his back disappeared as he stood erect. The once straight bow string was now being pulled back in order to launch his tethered missile. Just before he let his arrow fly; I realized I fallen asleep as this story unfolded, and I was not ready to photograph. As quick as I could, I changed my shutter speed and f-stop and began to peer through the viewfinder as he fired. The surface of the water explodes as the arrow appeared to hit its mark. The arrow stuck up at an angle and moved around like it was being stirred my an invisible hand. My shutter continued to click as the fish pulled ans struggled to be free of this strange dart embedded it its flesh. Just when I thought the fish was going to jump up out of the water for my prize shot, the arrow fell over flat. With a giant swirl of its tail, the fish quickly vanished toward deeper water.
I'm not sure who was more upset, the young man for loosing his fish, or me for loosing my money shot. A yellow flash caught the corner of my eye as I watched the young man solemnly reel in his empty arrow. Looking back down the thistle covered shoreline; I spied the yellow visitor. He was perched atop of the thistle and was gorging himself on seeds unaware that I was watching him through my long glass. Forgetting the sorrows of the empty handed fisherman; I began to creep closer to the Finch as it feasted. The wet and sloppy shoreline slurped in each of my steps, and I had to use my tripod legs as a crutch to keep me from sliding into the water. Thankfully, the Finch was up higher, and my approach was screened my the thistle. Several times en route to a closer spot; I stopped to take some frames for fear that he would take to flight before I got to the desired distance. It was a challenge trying to photograph on a slippery hillside, and I stomped each step into the cool sucking mud to shore up my stance. About the third time I stopped to photograph, my height must have broken above the thistle, I could tell the Gold Finch now say me. His demeanor changed and he crouched ever so slightly in preparation for his escape. Just as I brought my glass to bear on him once more, he jumped from his perch and was gone. It occurred to me that I was not only the one who had one get away while fishing. Still, unlike the bow-fisherman; I had a creel of about twelve images though each of us could shared the grief of a Prize that got away. Isn't that what fishing is all about though? The process is as important, or perhaps more important than the fish you hold with two hands to show your buddies or the flawless Giclee hanging on a cash buyers wall. Though I prefer to hold up prize fish and prize images; I never belittle the process for which I cast a line or cast a frame. After all, I suspect it is the process that I am in love with. Please don't tell my photographs this.
Happy Shooting.
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