M Y F A T H E R O N
T H E F E A T H E R
Creative Nonfiction
B Y T I M D A V I E S
My father looks up at me from the bank of the Feather River with a smile that would reappear in rare , sacred moments from the mirror in later years . It is the kind of smile that finds its home on the porch of the eyes , genuine and easy . Those piercing blue eyes and the long eyelashes that were passed down regard me with a wisp of triumph . Behind him , the water boils and churns , its mossy perfume filling my nose . The smile seems at odds with the flashing knife held tightly in his right hand ; looking down offers an explanation . There on dull gray , smooth rocks , lay two bright King Salmon . We had arrived at daylight , crawling from a deep sleep at 3 AM to make the morning rise . Dad had spent the prior evening tying flies , intricate bumblebees and the like , flies of his unique invention – something he promised he would teach me . Now , the fish lay in glistening repose on the river ’ s
bank in testament to the power of the fly and the skill of my father .
not unlike fly fishing , and the line is allowed to sink and bump along the bottom , driven by current and hope . Then we wait for a change . It is not a bite really and must be felt to be understood . Most times I am wrong , and it is just the bottom , pretending to be a fish . But when the rod bends and the string sings as it climbs the river , so does my heart . I
learned patience here and it has served me well . We must be careful not to cross each other , so the rhythm of cast … drift … wait … cast … takes us to a place without words . As the sun rises , even though the only thing biting is gnats , I would rather be nowhere else in the world . The call of hawks and the occasional rise of
His green neoprene waders cover him from chest to feet . I am wrapped in brown . In order to catch the prize , we must do the dance , according to my dad . This means wading into the stream across the moss - covered stones in swift , icy water recently melted from the snows of the Sierra Nevada range . Claiming a likely spot , we make gentle , rolling casts ,
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