In Search of the Giant Squid in All the Wrong Waters: Week 32
Friday, July 25, 2014, 7:41am
Today, I searched for the giant squid in the Chocolay River. I took the kayak to cover more ground. The orange one, because, according to squid-jigging blogger, Rustbucket Lines-In, the bigger the squid, the more they are attracted to the color orange. In fact, Rustbucket enjoys rubbing his lures down with the volatile oils of an orange peel, not to mention an appreciable quantity of neohesperidin that he stores (or so he claims), in a well-rinsed crystal teardrop of his late wife’s Eau de Toilette—the one with the squid on the label, the one that advertised a scent as immortal as sepia. But guilt, thankfully, is not as immortal as sepia and, as the morning progressed, I felt less and less bad about the quality of my bait, which was (until it got too soggy), the black-white-and-yellow-striped Monarch caterpillar I accidentally squashed beneath my right Ked during last night’s heated backyard badminton, and the head of the Smooth Greensnake I decapitated with a mop handle because, at the time, I did not know that it was non-venomous, and I was afraid that it was going to bite the cat. Still, these snakes are known to smear a captor with a musky anal secretion, a fact that went a long way in justifying my violence. I couldn’t have the cat smelling like that. We’re having company over for supper. I thought, briefly, about last meals, last words. The sun was low, nesting in the ironwoods, and I saw a nest of spiders empty—orb weavers, I think— and stalk the mallard in the vetch. Her babies rushed into the water and tried to stay afloat, and the spiders swung themselves on their ropes of silk, and I swore I could hear the wind of their bodies, and feathers were lost, and I caught no squid, and, on my hook, the green snake head spun and spun in disbelief, water rushing into, then out of its mouth.