I was wading Lonergan Creek in the sandhills of Nebraska with my two girls about eight years ago. In the clear water I could see some small fish swimming about, and the kids giggled with happiness as the little darters would zip past their toes. It was just about as perfect a day as you could ever dream up.
I noticed that under some small undercut banks that there were big orange tails sticking out. I knew from experience that there were big carp hiding from us as we walked by.
I pretended that I was going to pick up a stone and throw it at the girls, but in reality I was noodling one of the carp. I carefully slid my hands up the side of the fish and when I found his gills I skillfully latched on.
I yelled at the girls to give me their attention as if I was going to throw a little pebble at them.
I hoisted the eight pound carp out of the water hoping to surprise the girls, but as I lifted the fish up I split one of the gill rakers and the fish whipped about violently, completely spraying the girls with thousands of drops of blood!
Both girls screamed in horror to Mom, covered in fish blood!
I've never been completely forgiven.
