Catching a Fish Spoiled John's Whole Day
collage/acrylic, 6 x 6
Elizabeth W. Seaver
John used the traditional fishing methods for birds of his ilk during his weekly
feeding fishing expeditions. But on the weekends, he liked to take rod and reel and colorful flies he tied himself to sit on a rock in the river and cast and cast. It was a little like meditation. His wing flashed back and forth in a rhythmic, flicking motion which served to sooth his ruffled feathers and eased his worried mind. Yes, John was a worrier. Once he stopped worrying that the kids would get eaten by big fish or fresh water gars or turtles, then the big expenses would start. They all wanted the latest l-pads and fancy b-uggs. They weren't happy just to eat dragonflies and waterbugs and wear regular webs like he did when he was a boy. Today's -lings! If he didn't love them so much, it wouldn't be a big deal. But he hated to see them wearing used outfits from Featherwell's Two Times New. Mabel said he was too soft-hearted, and he supposed that was true.
But when he was fishing, Mabel's softly chiding voice faded away, and he forgot that all week long he was nibbled to death by ducks. He only saw the sparkling water and felt the warm sun on his shoulders. Unfortunately, and it was a big downside, sometimes he actually caught a fish. It ruined the rhythm, zapped the Zen and otherwise, spoiled his whole day.
Sometimes, like today, he quick pulled in his line when a fish jumped or struck at the water. Often, they felt like talking, so he listened and advised on the best places to go for sushi, that sort of thing.
It was a two-edged sword, this making friends in the work place.