Daddy!

word count: 816

      “Daddy?”  This was not going to be good, when I get a Daddy, that means some bad news is coming, “Daddy?”

    Internally I heaved a heavy sigh; I had just worked into the perfect spot to cast under a deadfall with a deep hole behind it.  I knew, I could just sense that there was a fat native Cutthroat Trout waiting for me in the slack water, ready to dart into the current and viciously attack the #12 Elk Hair Caddis on my tippet.  A big, 18 inch football of a fish that was smart enough not to strike at a second cast, I would only have one chance at this one, it had to be perfect.

    “Daddy?”  Myfive year old daughter, Cami, was a bit nervous, “I lost my fly, again, can I have another one?” she mumbled.

    I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice, unsuccessfully, “Honey, I just gave you my last caddis, what are you doing with them?”

    “They keep coming untied, I can’t tie them on very good,” she whined. “Will you tie it on for me?” 

    Crap, maybe during the evening hatch I can catch him, I thought, as I waded across to her.  “They don’t keep coming ‘untied’, where are you losing them?”

    “Ah, um, in the trees?” her blonde pony tail bobbed up and down with her chin.  Her emerald eyes avoided mine.

    I looked around; we were fishing an old beaver pond that was turning into a meadow, riddled with shallow silty channels just narrow enough to be hidden by the grass, perfect for stumbling into and wrenching a knee or breaking an ankle.  There wasn’t a tree within 50 yards.  I raised an eyebrow at her, that and my “growly voice” are the only weapons I possess that have any effect on her.

    She wilted. 

      “Okay honey, but I am out of caddis,” I’d only tied two dozen for the weekend, what had I been thinking?  “How about a wooly bugger?”

    “Yeah, brown, you got a brown one?”

    “Yup, tied just for you kiddo.”

    We sat on the bank as I searched my vest for the right fly box.  “Here we go, take your pick honey.”

    She peered intently into the box, “I don’t know Dad, maybe a green one, whatta’ you think?”

    “Hmn, maybe you’re right, this olive one on the nymph hook might be just what these fish are hungry for this morning.  I think maybe I’d give that one a try.” 

    She took it from the box and turned it over in her little hand, eying it from all angles.  “Yup, this one, it will probably stay on if you tie it for me.”  She thrust her rod tip at me, narrowly missing my eye.

    “Okay kid; don’t lay it on too thick here.”

    “Daddy,” she smiled at me.  Then, DADDY, DADDY BEES HELP! DADDY!!!” 

    She is deathly allergic to bees and we’d inadvertently been sitting on a ground hive under the muddy bank, the only thing saving her were neoprene waders.  We had bees buzzing around us, somewhere I heard my wife scream something.  Her parents were camping with us that weekend.  My mother-in-law, bless her heart, was yelling at us, “Get under the water!  They can’t go in the water, get under the water!”

    It’s amazing how quickly and logically one can shuffle through scenarios when their offspring is threatened.  Yeah, right Ruth, it is 6 maybe 12 inches deep everywhere except the one hole and that is where the hive is.  I grabbed Cami, tucked her into my arms, sheltering her as best I could and stood up in a single, fluid motion, then started running with everything I had in me, ignoring my footing, praying I didn’t hit a hidden channel.  I quickly realized that I wouldn’t be able to out run them carrying my daughter.

    I turned and headed for my mother-in-law, yelling, “Ruth, take her and run, take her.”  Ruth was moving when I passed Cami to her, a perfectly executed scissors play, I had never done it that well while playing rugby.  I stopped while my mother-in-law took off with Cami.  As I had thought, and hoped, the bees went for a still target instead of a moving one.  As soon as Ruth had Cami safely away I headed back towards the water as fast as my adrenaline filled system would take me.  I managed to stumble across the stream where I stopped, alone, no bees.  I looked across to the meadow’s edge where my wife, daughter and mother-in-law stood safely.

    After the adrenaline bled from my system I waded across the stream, picked up our rods and walked back to camp.  I started to feel many of the bee stings I had accumulated, but it was okay.  For that one time, once in my life, I’d known I did the right thing.

word count: 816