Silver and pink scales flash above the foaming grey water. The wriggling bodies slam over and over against the boulders that peek above the bubbling stream. They unsettle the shale and pebbles that mottle the floor.
They are rushing upstream, every thrashing move they make gains little ground.
Further upstream is the top half of a man; the rim of his hat not quite shielding his eyes from the rays of sun. He stands in rubbery grey overalls and grasps a pole, the line waving in the wind.
Tucked out of sight, much farther downstream, is a shy brown bear peeking around the trunk and through the leaves of a shredding birch. Snuffling toward the rushing water, she dips a paw in, testing. Her claws ready to dig into the scales, her jaws ready to hold the struggling fish.
The sunset strikes the leaves on the branches above to create the impression that we are somewhere where the world cannot touch us. Lost somewhere in the woods, where we happened upon this section of stream that twists and bends out of sight.
There is a gauntlet playing out just under the surface. Scales falling and sides bruising against the stones that create a raised path down the middle of the stream.
Hook and sinker waiting,
Claw and tooth baiting.
Salmon. Run. Jump. Swim.
Dive headlong into the falls.
Hold your breath in the evening air.
I hope you make it.
