Oracle - The Brewton-Parker College Review

Laughing Mullet?
Maggie Haines

As the dark fingers of night pulled back the curtain to reveal the light of day, there was a stir just off the shore of the bay. At the same time a fisherman was preparing for a day of trying to catch the elusive laughing mullet. It had been over ten years since her last attempt at fishing, but standing at the edge of the porch looking out at the bay, she remembered that last fishing experience with a great deal of fondness.
Aunt Faye had come to live with them a few weeks before and had spoken often of how she enjoyed fishing. One Saturday morning she had called to Aunt Faye, “would you like to go fishing today? I checked out the pond over at the college yesterday and I saw some big ones jumping.”
“If you are sure it will be alright if I fish there, I would like that very much,” was the reply.
“Of course it is, but you know that I don’t know anything about fishing so you will have to lead the way.” That was a strange statement since Aunt Faye was blind and had been for years. That day the blind led the sighted into a world of new experiences. That day the old college professor learned how to put a worm on a hook as well as how to take a fish off a hook without hurting its mouth. She also learned to determine if the fish was a “keeper” or if it should be returned to the lake to swim another day. Aunt Faye had even taught her how to scale and clean a “keeper.” A couple of weeks later Aunt Faye died of a heart attack, but the memories have lasted a long time. That first fish cleaned by the professor remained in the freezer for years, in fact it was there until by accident everything was destroyed by defrosting. It was not known by anyone else, but that was a very sad day because it seemed to wash away a special time with Aunt Faye also. Well today was to be a tribute to her.
Several weeks before the professor had heard of the laughing mullet off the shore of Lanark, Florida, but there had not been time to go fishing because they had been moving into their new home on the bay across from Dog Island. As she stood on the porch the daylight became more pronounced and the sun began to peep out from behind the clouds, she silently chuckled to herself “a laughing mullet! I wonder if they will laugh at the way I’m dressed or at the way I throw the line out to them? Someone must be out of their mind tothink a fish can laugh, but we will see. Come on Aunt Faye, let’s do it again.” With that she turned with determination and marched down the stairs to where the fishing gear was stored.
The first cast went way out beyond where the school of fish was playing in the surf. As if to say, “here we are over here,” it seemed that the entire school of fish jumped as a whole. Another cast, this time into the middle of the school, but once again no bites. Slowly the line was drawn in with the hope one would strike. No luck, only an empty hook. Once again the line was thrown out and worked slowly to entice one of those on the edge to follow the bait enough to be caught. “No way!!” she thought she heard. As each mullet jumped it seemed to turn toward the shore and wave its tail to the lady fisherman. When they jumped there was a sound that came from the group that really did sound like they were laughing at the one trying to catch them. “If you want to catch fish, you have to be more patient and smarter than the fish,” Aunt Faye had instructed years before.
As she continued to throw the line out, she began to imagine the conversation among the fish in the school. As a teacher she was very familiar with private conversations in class that often got students in trouble. This time she was hoping this might be true of the fish as well.
“Look at that old lady standing knee deep in water, she must be a nut to think she can catch one of us. She should know that we are much too smart for that,” one of the older fish said to his swimming partner.
“Stay close together and don’t open your mouth to anything you don’t recognize as a real bite of food. Junior, get back over here or you will never live long enough to grow up.”
“Oh, stop worrying Pop, I’m not go’na get caught,” he called out. “Wheew, that was close, I better move over to the middle of the school,” he said to himself. “I sure hope Pop didn’t see that, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Just as Junior was talking to himself, Uncle Charley, one of the largest mullet in the whole bay, opened his mouth and took a bite of something as it swam by. All the other fish began to scurry away from Uncle Charley as they saw he had opened his mouth once too often. Smart as he was he must have had a senior moment and did not look closely enough at the thing he took a bite of. Before he knew it there was a jerk of the line, the hook was set and poor Uncle Charley was being pulled in to the shore. It seemed that each fish jumped, this time to wave goodbye to poor Uncle Charley. “Dear me, if Uncle Charley can be caught off guard just think what could happen to you young ones,” an older mullet cried out. “Old Charley could jump the highest and laugh the loudest of us all,” another chimed in.
Pulling the line in to the shallow water where the big fish could be netted, the lady fisherman silently thanked Aunt Faye for another wonderful experience and said aloud to the school of fish, “now who’s laughing?”
Smiling, she held the fish up stretched out to its full-length snout to tail, so her family up on the porch could see. Then she carefully took the hook out of its mouth and stooped down, placing the large fish back into the water and giving him a little push out into the deep water. As he reached the deeper water he jumped once, twice, and a third time but did not appear to be laughing this time. But she did seem to hear a sigh of relief and a faint, “thanks.”