When Scott was about 12 or 13, he, Sammy Bonfante and I went fishing at Schofield reservoir.
As we were launching the canoe, we noticed that we could easily see to the bottom of the lake, which was 7 to 10 feet deep by the shore. It was beautiful! Then we noticed that hundreds of crawdads were crawling along the bottom very close to shore. So, we caught a fish, cleaned it, tied its entrails to a string and tossed them into the water to attract the crawdads. We had a blast catching about 60 to 80 of them. We then went out in the canoe and caught a bunch of trout.
We brought dozens of crawdads home and Scott and Sammy put them in a little plastic swimming pool in our back yard, after de-chlorinating the water. But they died anyway and what a stink they made! The whole neighborhood smelled like rotting crawdads! Anyone living within 100 yards downwind of our house was probably tormented by the stench. Even after we put the dead crawdads in double plastic bags, they still stunk. A neighbor, Lisa Jensen, walked by our house and protested about the stench in her delightful way, which made Scott and me laugh. For weeks after the trash had been collected, our dumpster still smelled like dead crawdads, even after hosing it out.
The memory of the fishing trip, watching Scott and Sammy catch the crawdads and fish and bringing them home still puts a smile on my face. (I wonder if the girls in the family understand the feeling of ecstacy that guys get from stuff like that?)
Love,
Dad Hughes
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