... to be nice. I was thinking about the days on the river, and remembered one of the stories that makes me laugh... now...

Trotlines were very common on the Gasconade. Legally, they are supposed to be marked to show who the owner is, and a place of residence. Few people do it, and most of them leave the lines out in the river after they get tired of checking them. When I saw lines that were not marked, I'd take them out. I could just imagine what it would be like for a kid playing in the water to get one of these huge hooks buried in them... ok, I was equally as worried about my dog and me doing it. Part of it is, I just consider the trotline very sportsman like. If they are afraid they are going to starve without it, ok, but that's not what I've seen. I had a neighbor that proudly showed me his huge chest freezer full of catfish, and with further pride told me that he was still pulling them out of the river and had to give them away because he had no place to put them. No wonder Flanders and I couldn't catch a single one when we went night fishing. Granted, it did give us the opportunity to watch me try to balance the boat near a large branch that broke in my hands and resulted in me falling in the water. We were die-hard, though. We boated home, I took a hot shower, and we were back on the water to continue drinking beer fishing.

Well, anyway, my story is supposed to be about the time I was trolling down the river, and saw a continuous splashing about ten feet from shore. Every now and then, I could see a trotline come to the surface, and knew something was trapped. It was not the kind of splashing that comes from a fish. I turned the boat in that direction, and saw a rather large river turtle with its foot caught on a hook. I know that we are supposed to approach wildlife with a certain respect, but a) I'm Dr. Dolittle, and b) it was a freakin' turtle. I figured I'd have to force it to let me hold the foot to get the hook out.

The hook was completely through the foot. Having been in a similar situation with a treble hook, I knew it was going to hurt the poor turtle like a mother to pull it out. I was thinking about the confusion this poor creature must have been going through, and how close to exhaustion it must have been trying to make sure it could get air. I gingerly started working on the foot, and after a few minutes, I got the hook out. Imagining how pleased the turtle must have been to be free, I quickly tried to release it. Not quickly enough, however... It reached over and took a bite out of my hand. It wasn't a snapping turtle, but it could have given one a run for its money. I had a big v-shaped wound in my finger where it took out a chunk of flesh with its beak. It then swam off to continue its pleasant life as a river dweller. I was probably the first meal it had had in a couple of days.

I hope it got sick...

Mental note: knock them in the head before you help... people, too...