Two boys, a big pike and two shovels equal a taxidermist

Back in high school I spent the summers working in my uncle's tackle shop. Each day was highlighted by the arrival of a young boy with a penchant for angling. So one day I offered to take him out fishing along with one of his friends.

It wasn't long after we had arrived at the lake when the two began talking about catching a huge fish. One that would secure the grand prize, a brand new depth finder for the seasonal fishing contest held at Jerry's Bait, a tackle shop seated at the edge of Highway 34 in Nevis.

We were fishing a lake south of town, Palmer Lake, and had caught a few smaller walleye, some perch and sunfish. As each was hoisted over the gunwale, the boys would enthusiastically ask, "Do you think this one will win the contest?" If it only took 12-ounces to take the top prize, they might have had a chance.

"What's that?" one of the boys shouted, pointing to the shoreline where an unidentified object lay washed up.

Approaching, we discovered a large northern, twelve pounds or so baking in the sun. Baking, not basking. It had been there for a while and the boys poked it a few times with their fishing rods. Then we headed back to fishing.

Soon the two were asking to go back. They had already examined the fish and prodded it with their graphite rods. What was there left to do?

"We want to take a picture with it!" they exclaimed and after considering the actual risks, figured they would be no worse off.

We snapped a few shots and got a better gauge of how long that fish had actually been there. Its unfortunate passing undoubtedly wasn't that recent.

It only took a few minutes and we were back on the water once again, but it didn't take long for the boys to come up with another request, an idea that may seem absurd to an adult, but a possibility for a couple of young boys. "Let's bring the fish home and enter it in the fishing contest!"

"Now hold on there," I interjected, "There is no way this fish will be accepted for the contest."

I continued, holding my ground and adding that such an act would be dishonest. The begging didn't subside, so I thought long and hard, deciding the only way these boys would learn a lesson about honesty was to have their "entry" turned away by the bait shop.

"Here's the deal," I said. "I'm positive that the bait shop will not acknowledge this fish as a viable catch, but if you want to find out the hard way, you can put it in the livewell. However, if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with this."

Pulling into the driveway, the enthusiastic young men shot out of the vehicle like trout in the shadow of an osprey and starting yelling, "Mom, come see what we caught!"

The boy's mother peered into the trailered boat as the youngster flopped open the livewell hatch to reveal an indescribable stench. "Oh my gosh, what's that smell?" she cried, at which point the two boys simultaneously pointed at me and in unison said, "It was all his idea."

Well, the boys spent the afternoon digging a very deep hole in the garden for the northern and the fishing contest carried on without ever seeing their suspicious entry. The boy with such passion for fishing may not have won the depth finder, but that young man, Bryce Bellomo, went on to school to fulfill his dream of becoming a taxidermist.