Walleye

What do they see?
Through those opalescent eyes?
You have to wonder right?!

Lake Frances, Montana is small
More like a really big pond
But oh what a pond
It lies on desolate flat prairie
At the foot of the magnificent Rocky Mountains
And it harbors adventures
You cannot imagine
At first glance

The very first rays of light struck his eyelids
And they opened, alert and prepared

He quietly worked his way
Out of the small RV
So as to not disturb others sleeping

The lake was... early morning still
Smooth as glass
Covered by a cotton ball blanket of thick fog

He gathered his gear, loaded
Then pushed the boat from shore as he
Pulled himself over the side
And securely in

The fog was so thick
He had to work his way
Across the lake
By staying a few feet
From the perimeter shoreline
Taking the radius and not the straight route

Finally, he reached the spot he was looking for
An earthen and clay bank
Several hundred feet long
Dropping gradually into the water
There, at the mud line
The walleye would be searching for food

He dropped his anchor 30 feet off
Tipped his jig with nightcrawler
And cast toward shore

He was the only one on the lake
At that hour and other than his own rustlings
There was no sound...none at all

He was there about an hour
And caught several walleye
Roughly a pound and a half each
At that point, the fog had lifted
And he was able to see well enough
To cruise straight back to the camp site

There, he filleted the fish
In preparation for breakfast
His family was stirring so he enlisted help

On the camp stove...
Filets lightly breaded, salt and peppered and fried in butter
They would feast on them along with fried potatoes with onions
Including toast smeared with jelly
And all chased with fresh, steaming coffee

A family together
On a beautiful morning
When reflected upon
Remains heart warming...

Especially if there's fresh walleye involved.