El Gran Catan IV

FRONTeras Magazine Vol. 1 No. 4

The walk seemed harder today. His knees ached. The air felt light, the leaves were changing color. The clouds were thick and the sun played peekaboo. He wore thicker socks with hiking boots. His foot itched as he walked and the skin pressed against the hard leather. He was carrying three rods today. He had envisioned where he would place them. While walking, he noticed a bird. It was black with clear brown eyes. It was fluttering on the ground struggling to stay alive. He picked it up and twisted it until it stopped moving. The bird had blood on one side of its head. He put the bird in the bucket and walked toward the water.

The clouds had moved north and the wind had flattened. It was quiet at the lake today. He could see no visitors at the banks. He took the net and casted it twice. Each time he found a bigger fish to add to his hook. He took the bird and began to remove the feathers. The feathers began to float around him like snow. When most of its lower feathers were removed, he put it on a hook and threw it out. He cast it to the east of the other lines. He turned over the bucket and sat on it.

His mind drifted to a conversation he had with an old man at a panaderia. He was drinking coffee and he was approached by James, the local bait shop owner. James asked, "Did you see the latest drag?" "Yeah," he replied. "Caught on a damn bird, unbelievable!" He had heard his grandfather talk about great catan caught using dead wild birds. He had not heard this bait discussion in a long time. "What kind of bird?" he asked. "A black one. It was not a big one, it was a small black bird." "It got the biggest catan he's ever got, and he's caught chingos."

He wondered what the draw to the bird was. Surely, it was bloody. A wounded bird on the lakes edge would surely drip into the water sending flavors of new flesh underwater. He recalled his grandfather saying that the catan saw the birds lakeside and they hovered around the shallow areas on hot days taking them as delicacy when they snapped out of the water to feed.

The bell began to whistle it was moving. The line with the bird was screaming. He rushed off to grab the rod and released the reel to let the line loose. The line was circling as it ran out of the barrel. He let it move for a minute and then he closed it. The line tightened then stopped moving. It wasn't screaming. It was tight but quiet. He then felt a sudden grab and the line was very tense. The bell rang again. He pulled up and felt the intensity of the pressure. He began to reel. He laid the rod on his right lower stomach and tried to get his feet balanced. He reeled and heard another bell ring. He continued to reel. The other bells ring intensified.

@Martie Garcia Vela

@Martie

Copyright 2025 Martie Garcia Vela for FRONTeras. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Disclaimer: This is an editorial, not a love letter. The views expressed here are based on documented facts, sworn depositions, and publicly available records. Any opinions are the author’s own and don’t claim to represent legal advice, divine truth, or the official position of FRONTeras.