Thread: Why We Fly Fish
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Old 04-18-2011, 07:44 PM
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whitefeather whitefeather is offline
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Default The Rest of The Story

Quote:
Originally Posted by Streamhound View Post
I think wisdom from Morris would be welcome on the board at anytime you happen to recall it.

Great story
Morris was, at first, an un-welcomed visitor, an intruder! I soon adjusted my attitude.

He climbed into that old flannel shirt pocket sometime during the late winter of 1977. I had left the old flannel shirt in the garage because it reeked of fox-cover scent from deer season, and the Mrs. wouldn't touch it! LOL!

Morris didn't mind though. I gave him that name when my first words upon discovering him were, "you look like lunch for Morris (the cat).

I felt the lump in the shirt when I put it on, but my only thought was that it was something left over from dear season the previous fall. I was on my way to my fishing hole and wasn't about to take it off. It was my lucky shirt! My thoughts were on fishing, so I really wasn't curious about what the lump was...until it moved.

I knew immediately what it was then. I gently opened the pocket flap and peered in. There he was. A very small gray mouse. He rose from his nap, climbed out on my chest above the pocket and peered up at me. He wiggled his nose, blinked his small eyes, and crawled back down into the pocket, curled up, and went back to sleep. All as if to say, "can't you tell when a mouse is trying to catch a nap, now give me a little peace."

The Lord has always visited me in strange ways such as this, every since I was a child, so I while I was surprised, I was also receptive. The Mrs. used to doubt my stories of the wild things and my encounters, till she witnessed Morris sitting on my shoulder one evening sharing cheese with me, and some years later, my experiences with other animals. I'm glad she didn't scream! But, she had been a farm girl, so she had her "pets" when she was a child back on the farm.

Morris never spoke to me of course, but looking into his eyes I guess the power of self-reflection deep in my mind came to the surface with ease. But yet it seemed more than that.

If I asked, "white or green?" there was a powerful response in my mind, as if he was telepathically saying one way or the other. I decided not to ignore it. It never failed.

And I would share with him the cheese and crackers I had plenty of for snacks. He would sit on my shoulder and when he was done, back down in the pocket he went.

He only went with me over a period of a week or so, back in that February when it was like May outside everyday for the entire month. For that time, he was always there, and he was quite tidy. He didn't chew up anything and he didn't soil the pocket, so I let him stay, hanging it back up on the coat hanger in the garage.

After fishing everyday for a week with Morris in my pocket, one evening, when I came home from work, he was gone. Off doing mouse things I hoped. I prayed the cats didn't get him.

Morris was a wild thing, a part of nature, destined to be free and on his own, but for that week, he lived in friendly harmony and in complete trust with me, in that pocket, and for that, I will always be truly amazed, and humbled.
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-don't tell me why we can't, tell me how we can.- whitefeather
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