clipboard and said,
“Interesting technique.”
“Uh...practice.”
She swiftly reeled her line back in.
Baloo
murmured, “Pretty good, but next time release your line a little
later, okay?” Then, with a practiced flick of the wrist, he
smoothly cast his line.
“Showoff,”
Rebecca grumbled under her breath. Gritting her teeth in
determination, she jerkily cast and hooked her first catch - Mr.
Tannenbaum’s clipboard.
“The
catch of the day,” Baloo laughed.
“I’m
so, so sorry, Mr. Tannenbaum. Terribly, terribly sorry,” Rebecca
said as she untangled his clipboard from her hook.
Mr.
Tannenbaum looked over the clipboard before saying, “No damage
done. Proceed with the fishing, Mrs. Cunningham. I want to see how
a pro does it.” As if he wanted to see her better, he pushed his
pince-nez further up on his nose.
Rebecca
reeled in her line, made sure her worm was securely on the hook, and
drew the rod back. She stood there, still as a statue, for a few
moments as she tried to surreptitiously assimilate everything that
Baloo and Kit were doing. Fishing wasn’t as easy as it appeared,
and she hated to look like a failure, especially in front of Mr.
Tannenbaum. She, who had never failed in anything, was failing at a
simple thing like this. She could almost feel the judge’s eyes
bore into the back of her head. Tears of frustration pooled in her
eyes.
“Whatcha
waitin’ for?” Baloo asked softly as he slowly reeled his line in.
“Huh?”
Startled out of her reverie, Rebecca stammered, “Oh, I-I want to
make sure that the wind is coming from the right direction.”
Grinning
and shaking his head, the pilot said, “Let ‘er fly, Becky.”
She
flashed a sideways glance at Mr. Tannenbaum. His shrewd eyes were
fixed on her. She gulped, squeezed her eyes shut, and ‘let ‘er
fly’ with a whirrrrrr. When she opened her eyes, her line
wasn’t in the sand or snagged on Mr. Tannenbaum’s clipboard. It
was in the water where it belonged.
“Did
you see that, Baloo?” she said excitedly.
“Yup,
which was more’n you did.” He grinned at her. “You’re a
natural fisherman.”
“Fisherwoman,” she corrected.
“Hey,
I caught something!” Kit exclaimed, slowly reeling in his taut
line. Dangling from the end of it was a large rainbow trout.
“She’s
a nice one, Li’l Britches,” Baloo said admiringly, scooping the
flopping fish into the net.
Kit
quickly removed the hook from its mouth and plopped it into a bucket
of water where it splashed around.
“How
do you know it’s a she?” Rebecca whispered.
“Her
mouth is open.”
Rebecca
dumped the net over his head.
“Wow,
you caught a big one, Mrs. Cunningham!” Wildcat said.
“I
don’t need no hairnet,” Baloo growled, plucking the net from his
head. He retrieved his hat from the net and jammed it on his head.
“No,
you need...” She swiftly curtailed her sentence upon catching Mr.
Tannenbaum’s eye. “Just go fish, Baloo.”
“Are
you going to clean the fish now or later, Mrs. Cunningham?” Mr.
Tannenbaum asked, pen poised over his clipboard.
“Cleanit?” Rebecca stared at him as if he was a martian.
“Yes.
Clean it.”
“Okay.”
She peered into the bucket at the trout. Imperceptibly, she
shuddered. She hated the beady eyes, the gaping mouth. On top of
that, it looked slimy. Wash that thing? Never! She shuddered
again before asking, “Baloo, do we have any soap?”
Kit
choked back a laugh.
Rebecca
spun around. “What?”
Through
his loud guffaws, Baloo choked out, “That ain’t the way ya clean
a fish!”
“It-it
isn’t?”
“Naw.
What ya do is...” He whispered in her ear.
Rebecca’s
eyes grew wider as she listened.
Appalled,
she cried, “I can’t do that!” Noticing the judge
furiously scribbling, she amended in a calmer tone, “I mean I don’t
have the proper equipment. I’ll do it later.”
“Soakin’
it takes out some of the fishy taste anywhoo,” Baloo said, trying -
and failing - to hold back his snickers.
“Right.”
Rebecca cleared her throat. “I knew that.”
“Sure
ya did, Miz Pro.”
A
few minutes after Rebecca cast her line into the lake, she exclaimed,
“I caught something! I caught something!”
Baloo,
who hadn’t even gotten a nibble, jealously mumbled something about
beginner’s luck.
“Reel
it in, Miz Cu...!” Intercepting Mr. Tannenbaum’s questioning
gaze, Kit hastily amended, “Rebecca.”
Molly
and Wildcat looked up from their sandcastle towards the excitement.
“Not
too fast, Becky, or you’ll lose it.”
Rebecca
stood with back arched, heels dug in the sand, hands in a
white-knuckled grip on the pole’s handle. She snapped, “I can
barely hold it, let alone reel it in!”
To
steady the pole, Baloo took hold of the handle with her. “Here, I
got it. You worry ‘bout reelin’ it in nice an’ easy, honey.Easy. Ya gotta set the hook, or he’ll get away.”
Kit
got the net ready.
But
instead of a fish, an angry snapping turtle dangled from the hook.
Scratching
his head with a sand-encrusted little plastic shovel, Wildcat said,
“I didn’t know fish had legs...or shells...or...”
“That’s
a turtle, Wildcat,” Molly said with a smile.
With
one swift snap, the turtle chomped through the line, then scuttled
off onto shore.
Rebecca
shrieked with fright, dropped the pole, and scrambled up onto a lawn
chair.
But
the turtle wasn’t headed for her. It slowly made a beeline for Mr.
Tannenbaum.
“Run,
Mr. Tannenbaum! Run!” Molly shouted.
Mr.
Tannenbaum calmly swatted the its shell with his clipboard. The
turtle turned tail and waddled back into the lake. Kit could almost
swear that it blew a raspberry at them before diving in.
Rebecca
sank into the lawn chair with a sigh of relief.
“Wanna
try again?” Baloo offered her a fishing pole.
“No.
I’ve had enough fishing for one day.”
“Suit
yourself.” Baloo plumped down beside her and cast his line into
the water.
Later
That Afternoon
A
wren perched on a branch was singing his heart out to the beautiful
summer day. In the middle of a verse, he ceased singing and cocked
his head to one side, then the other as he listened. It sounded as
if a herd of elephants was approaching. Startled by a twig snapping,
he took flight.
Coming
through the underbrush were Kit, then Mr. Tannenbaum, Baloo, Molly,
Rebecca, and Wildcat.
“I
hope we get to see some lobsters,” Wildcat said. He held a pair of
binoculars to his eyes - backwards, so that everything appeared tiny.
“Lobsters?
There ain’t any lob...”
Baloo’s
sentence was cut short by Rebecca’s yelp. “What the...?” he
exclaimed as she leapt into his arms.
“A
snake! A snake!”
“Where?”
the cubs said simultaneously.
“There!”
Rebecca pointed a trembling finger at a pile of half-decomposed
leaves. “Molly, stay away from it!”
“Aw...”
the little girl groaned as Kit took her by the hand and pulled her
back.
“That
isn’t a snake, Mrs. Cunningham,” Mr. Tannenbaum said coolly.
“I-it
isn’t?”
From
out of the leaves, the judge pulled a long, skinny striped stick.
“No.”
Blushing,
Rebecca murmured sheepishly, “Well, it looked like a snake.”
“If
you squint like this, it does,” Wildcat said, zooming in on the
stick with his binoculars.
“Shall
we move on?” Mr. Tannenbaum said calmly, making a brief notation on
his clipboard.
“Way
to go for makin’ us look bad in front of Mr. T., Becky,” Baloo
whispered reproachfully as he set her down.
“How
was I to know it wasn’t a snake?” she whispered back. “It sure
looked like a snake to me!”
“Yeah,
but it wasn’t a snake.”
“Itlooked like a snake.”
“You
need to get those brown eyes of yours checked out.”
“I
do not!”
“Do,
too!”
“I
do not!”
“Do,
too!”
A
few minutes later, Wildcat asked, “What kind of a bird is that?”
He pointed to an overhead branch.
Mr.
Tannenbaum took one look and answered, “Barn swallow.”
“What
about that bird?” Molly pointed to the sky.
“Barn
swallow.” Mr. Tannenbaum’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are
you sure that you folks have been here before?”
“Yeah.
Sure. Tons of times,” Baloo lied without batting an eyelash.
Molly
asked, “Can I see the binoculars, Wildcat?”
“Sure
thing, Mollycat.”
Binoculars
in hand, she caught up to Baloo and tugged on his shirt. “Baloo,
make me taller!”
“One
piggyback ride comin’ up.” Without breaking his stride, he swung
her to his shoulders.
Molly
put the binoculars to her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the
clipboard over Mr.
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