Hook, Line & Stinker
Me and Ma live off the land. That and her government check. My name's Nettle Bramble, but folks call me Nettie for short and it just burns my kindling that a body's gotta have a license to put food on the table. I call it substance living. My snooty sister, MarshMarigold, says it's more like sub-standard living. Just because her husband, Tag Alder, has his own septic pumping business-he calls it Tag's Honey Wagon-and makes a bundle out of sucking up folks' you-know-what, doesn't mean that using what God puts there for the taking isn't a fair way to live. I'd much rather be in the woods or on a lake somewhere than to be driving that smelly ol' truck around and charging folks to tear up their lawn and stink up the neighborhood.
Me and Ma have an outhouse and when the pit gets full, we fill in the hole and dig us a new one then move the outhouse over it. Not my favorite thing to do, mind you, but it smells a whole lot better'n that truck of Tag's. He's had a lot of complaints from the neighbors about parking the Honey Wagon in his driveway, so he's been putting the thing in the gravel pit a ways from me and Ma's cabin. Tag pays Ma with a few bottles of hooch for the deal.
What croaks my goat is that I gotta get a license to catch a fish or take down a critter for supper. Might as well go to a fancy restaurant and have someone else do the catching and cleaning for what a license costs. Well, maybe I mean what a license would cost if I bothered to get one, which I don't. Not that I don't strictly abide by the rules of the woods and water. I only take what is plentiful and eat what I take. Mostly.
Can't say the same for my sister's two brats, Wanton and Wiley, who get a plate of food then commence to waste half of it. The Alder clan showed up just as I was getting ready to go fishin' wanting me and Ma to sit the two boys for a weekend while she and Tag went off on some lovey dovey trip where I figure they don't want their whiny kids around. Ma tolerates her grandsons because they're family plus the older one favors my pa-rest in peace-and that makes Ma a little soft on him. What it boils down to is that Ma squirms out of it and leaves the babysitting to me. But I go along with it because I've been trying to turn my wimpy nephews into real boys.
"Eeewww!" Wiley, the younger one squealed at the idea of digging up worms. Now most boys (and some girls, too) just love crawling around in the dirt looking for worms, which is what you gotta do before you go pole fishing at the creek. When I use my rod and reel, I prefer Circus Peanuts and pork fat for bait, but for catching a couple of catfish, which are your bottom feeders, you need a fishpole and worms. No way am I paying for worms any more than I'm paying for a fishin' license, so I sent the boys out behind the shed to dig up some crawlers. Ma promised to fry up the fish for us if we had any luck. You'd a thunk I sent my girly nephews out to bury a body or something the way they dragged butt. So I went to show 'em how it's done and maybe play a little trick too.
"See, boys, you just put the shovel metal part pointing at the ground and push with your foot," I said. Lord, they didn't even know what the business end of a shovel was. The older one managed to dig up a few inches of dirt before saying he was tuckered out.
"Ya know, Wanton-and you too, Wiley-I didn't want to tell yous before, but I'll let you in on a secret. I heard that folks are getting a lot of gold nuggets out of the creek by huntin' for them with a fishpole and worms. Story is that my grandpa caught enough gold outa the creek to buy up this land me and Ma live on!"
"Yeah?" said the younger one.
"Uh huh," I said. "Your granny and me have been waiting for some smart fellas like you boys to help us get more nuggets outa the creek and we can split up the money they bring. You wouldn't need to go to school anymore 'cause you'd be rich."
"But I like school," said the older one.
"Me too," said the younger one.
"That so? Well you'd be smart and rich then!"
"Yeah!" Wanton said digging with more enthusiasm. "I'll buy an ATV."
"Me too," Wiley said, dropping to his knees to inspect the clumps of dirt. "There's some worms in here, Aunt Nettie!"
"Well, get them out and put them in the cans and we'll head to the creek to catch us some gold nuggets."
Lickety-split we had us a couple of coffee cans full of fat nightcrawlers and was headed down the two-track road to the creek. Normally when I go to the creek, I try to move along quiet so's not to draw attention to myself, being without a license and all. But the boys were excited about finding gold and they made a lot of racket and that attracted unwanted attention from the local conservation officer, Will Ketchum. CO Ketchum is what you would call over-zealous about his job. He's related to my sister through her marriage to his (Ketchum's) cousin's brother-in-law, Tag Alder. But relation or not he doesn't care who he arrests and drags to court. I heard he threw his granny in jail for having one too many bluegills in her catch.
"Mornin' Nettie. Boys," Ketchum said as he appeared out of nowhere and stood with hands on hips while he glared at us.
My nephews screamed and threw their fishpoles and bait up in the air.
"Nice day," Ketchum added.
Wanton and Wiley just stared at Ketchum in his spiffy uniform and shiny badge.
"Wow!" said Wanton. "Are you the cops? We can keep the gold can't we?"
"Gold?" Ketchum said.
"Oh, these boys," I chuckled. "We were just going to the creek to, er, fish for gold."
"Yeah," Wiley said. "Gold nuggets!"
"That so?" Ketchum said, looking down at his fingernails.
"Sure," I said. "Babysitting my nephews here and just trying to keep them from burning the woods down. Heh heh."
"Fishing for gold?"
"You betcha," I said.
"With cane fishpoles and buckets of worms?"
"Well, I told 'em you could catch gold by fishing with the pole," I whispered out of the side of my mouth so's the boys didn't hear. "They're city boys and believe anything."
"And you weren't expecting a fish or two to maybe glom onto your, er, gold bait?"
"Well sir, now that you mention it, I did tell the boys that if that did happen, we had to let the fish go right away because it was illegal to fish without a license. But you don't need a license to fish for gold, do you?"
Ketchum frowned and I could tell that I had him there.
"I promise we'll throw any fish back that we might accidentally catch. I'm just keeping these boys busy so's they stay outa trouble," I said.
"You still need a fishing license, girlie," Will said. "You got the fishing gear. I could confiscate it and write you up. I don't think Judge Nightshade would be at all happy to see a Bramble in his courtroom."
Judge Nightshade, who'd been the local judge ever since I could remember, was known for having a small, hard heart. Between him and Ketchum, I was always walking on thin ice. Hizhonor didn't care for us Brambles. Come to think of it, he didn't care for much for anybody, so it was natural to avoid going before him.
"But," said Ketchum with a shrug, "I got three boys of my own-the wife says she has four boys because I never grew up, har har. I know what you're up to Bramble, but I'm not gonna look like some big jerk in front of your nephews there and take away your stuff." He glanced over at Wanton and Wiley who were collecting the worms that had spilled out of the cans. "I know that PR is part of the job, so I'll let you off this time. But you need to find some other way to, ah, fish for gold. Use an old pie pan or something and pretend that way."
I tried not to let Ketchum see how glad I was with the news.
"Okay," I said. "We'll find some other way to, ah, fish for nuggets and keep these two hooligans out of the slammer. Heh heh."
"See that you do," Ketchum said, and just like a whitetail buck, he vanished into the woods.
"Okay boys," I yelled. "We gotta go back to the cabin and get us some other way to fish for gold."
"Aw gee, Aunt Nettie," they both whined.
* * *
I found it wasn't much different driving a big septic truck than my regular truck. Just a few more gears, plus the brakes were different and the mirrors were weird, and there's a bunch of gauges that look broke, and some buttons. I tried a few, and the windshield wipers and four-ways came on. There were some levers and a pump switch and other things on it that I didn't have a clue about. And you can't see what's behind you so the rig beeps when you put 'er in...
