I’ve never had much luck saltwater fishing. My first outing as a young boy was holding a handline over the side of my grandfather Pop Hunter’s motorboat in the shallow bay behind Alligator Point east of Apalachicola, Florida. Pop and my father were after redfish, and I wasn’t expected to catch anything. Sit and be quiet, they said. So I did, until something grabbed my line, and I let out a scream. My grandfather snatched the line and began battling a strong fish with just his tough freckled hands.That fish turned out to be a small hammer- head shark! When he finally pulled it onboard, he tossed it at my feet where it thrashed about, and I began screaming again — certain it was going to bite me — until Pop threw it back in the bay. He thought it was hilarious and told the story repeatedly FLAGS What ’s flapping in the wind is jumping on the hook BY JAMES R. BARNETT CRUISING THROUGH HISTORY > THE ORIGINS OF FISH CAPTURE
72
mar i na l i fe. com
Made with FlippingBook flipbook maker