The cow mooed, the pig squealed, the horse whinnied, the rooster crowed, and the green tractor let out a cough that would worry any doctor or mechanic.
I smiled. Making my way from the dusty one track where I’d parked my truck, and passing the two-story Dutch barn, I shimmied under the bottom strand of electric fence and walked to the edge of the oval pond. There I laid two rods and a tackle bag in the high grass next to a dehydrated cow pie. I felt so much tension disappear like smoke over my head.
If you’re a kid, or a kid at heart, I hope that sometime in your life you can fish a fertile farm pond and enjoy the simplest, purist fishing you’re ever going to do.
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