Fishing with an Angel  

Sarah and Brigit Brown were sisters. Born and raised in the same raceway, on stocking day they huddled close together in the turmoil of the hatchery truck, were scooped up in the same bucket and hurled into the same pool. Together they endured the first frightening, hungry, and dangerous weeks in their new home. 

Now, months later, they were lounging side by side in the cushion upstream of a boulder, their favorite hangout.

Brigit, slightly longer and noticeably fatter than her sister, turned left and snatched a tumbling Mayfly nymph out of the current. "Mmmm. Fresh off the rocks in the riffle, just how I like them." She gave the quick gill flare that is the troutly equivalent of a belch.

"They're not bad," Sarah agreed, "But I prefer something with a little crunch." She had her eyes on the surface debris. "Ants, now: A nice, crunchy texture and a zesty hot flavor. I can't stop eating them once I start." But it was a beetle, legs working frantically, that bobbed into her sight. With her characteristic graceful leisure, she tipped up and sipped it in.

"Do you ever miss pellets?" Brigit asked idly.

"Not really. There's more variety here in the stream, once you figure out what's edible."

"I miss them every day," Brigit sighed. "Twice a day, dawn and dusk, without fail, and plenty of them. Those were the days, Sarah."

Sarah flicked her pectoral fins disdainfully. "Sure, and thousands of us competing for them, lunging and shoving each other, gulping too fast to taste. I like it better here, with just a few of us. Most of the time there's plenty of food for all of us, and time to savor it." She spotted one of her favorites floating by, and drifted over to slurp the ant down.

"That's another thing," Brigit said uneasily, "There were dozens of us tossed in here. You and I and the old-timers are all that are left. What happened to the rest? They just disappeared, one by one. Makes me nervous." A delicate shudder undulated her sleek body.

"Well, there's those big shadows that go so fast over the Sky," Sarah mused. "I saw one crash right through the Sky once."

"Wow! What did it look like?"

"It was so fast I didn't see it clearly, just a shape covered with bubbles. But when it broke back through the Sky, Ralph was gone. And he'd been right there where it happened."

"There are other evil things that live beyond the Sky," Brigit confided. "One of the fingerlings told me about a shadow supported on two sticks. Once in awhile there'd be a splash, like someone rising to a Caddis, and one of the fry would be gone."

"That's one reason to never go into the shallow water," Sarah pointed out. "There are others, sticks that move and grab you; And some that have teeth!"

"Sticks with teeth?" Brigit scoffed, but she was undulating nervously. "Beyond the Sky must be a terrible place." A Caddis flopped as it floated over them, but both were too distracted to notice.

"What bothers me," Sarah said slowly, "Is that all these dangers happen in shallow water. Fry, fingerlings and minnows are the only ones naive enough to hang around there. Even when we were first dumped in here, we weren't that stupid."

"True." Brigit brightened up a bit. "Our raceway had no shallow places. They seemed strange to us, so we all headed for the deepest water we could find. We didn't choose our own homes until later." Her cheer abruptly disappeared again. "When there were much fewer of us. Sarah, none of our mates were in shallow water when they vanished. Except Ralph, and you know he was never that bright."

"Just what I was thinking. So we have an enemy that strikes in deep water," Sarah pointed out. "One that's quiet and invisible. And deadly. None of us who vanished ever came back." Both fell silent. They were so close now their fins occasionally brushed each other's sides, which was comforting.

The Sky darkened gradually, and soon the trout had other things to think about. The dimpled light-patterns in the Sky told them there was a hatch in progress, and that was too important an event to waste being distracted by formless worries. Both lapsed into the rhythmic pace of efficient eating. It was well after dark when the hatch ended and they settled back in their cushion, sated and smiling.

"I'm stuffed!" Brigit said with great satisfaction. "Blue-winged Olives are my favorites!"

"Anything edible is your favorite," Sarah smiled. "But don't worry. We'll get the spinners when they come back at dawn."

"The leftovers are never as good," Brigit protested. Sarah stayed silent, amused, knowing Brigit's enthusiasm would rebound once she was hungry again. The two friends lay drowsily side by side, digesting their fine meal and thinking contented thoughts.

Shortly before dawn, Sarah remembered something..

"Brigit?"

"Mmm-hmm?"

"I heard a rumor from one of the Brookies during the Sulphur hatch."

"Yeah?"

"Some of them have gone beyond the Sky... And returned to tell about it."

"You're pulling my fin." Brigit was openly scornful.

"She said it had happened to the Old Native."

"He lives down in the Ever-dark Hole, doesn't he?"

"That's him." Sarah was silent for some time, as they scanned the Sky for the distinctive silhouettes of floating spinners. Finally she blurted, "Want to go see him today after breakfast?"

"He's awful big, isn't he?" Brigit sounded worried, but kept her eager gaze on the Sky.

"We're big, too," Sarah pointed out, "Why, you must have grown two fin lengths over the summer! There's not a trout anywhere big enough to make a meal of either one of us."

A flattered Brigit tilted coyly, flashing her spots. "Alright, if it will make you feel better. We'll go see the Old Native and hear his story. We're big, we're strong, and there are two of us!"

"Here they come!" Sarah cried, as she spotted the first spinner of their morning meal.

"Oh, boy! Spinners for breakfast!" Brigit rose for it too fast to hear Sarah laughing behind her.

They lingered awhile after the spinner fall ended, but finally Sarah nudged Brigit and asked, "Ready to go?"

"Let's do it!" Brigit streaked across the current to the left of their rock, closely followed by Sarah. They paused briefly behind a smaller rock, then dashed for the Rocky Embankment, the left bank of the stream. Slowly they worked their way along it downstream, greeting the inhabitants, graciously accepting the occasional invitation to stop and snack. 

The water to their right got deeper and deeper as they eased their way downstream, and the current slowed. On the far side of the stream, a gang of chubs was playing one of their noisy games, blowing raspberries through the Sky and laughing. The pair could hear them, but not see them.

"Straight across to the log jam," the big friendly Brown that lived on the edge of the deep hole advised them, "Circle around it downstream, and you'll find the bridge abutment. The Old Native lives along that abutment downstream of the logs."

"Thanks a lot, friend, and tranquil waters to you," Sarah answered.
"And to the both of you," he said, then delicately finned his way to where he could see clearly through the Sky to inspect a floating bit of plant fluff. With a negative shake of his tail, he turned back down to his holding position.

Sarah and Brigit dove deep, their caudal fins stirring silt from the bottom of the Ever-Dark Hole as they crossed it, keeping the current carefully to their left. After awhile they spotted a tangle of limbs, overgrown with algae and decorated with trapped debris.

"Mmmm! Minnows! And clinging nymphs! Let's stop for a bite," Brigit said.
"Not here," Sarah replied, with a nervous glance downstream, "This is the Old Native's territory. It's rude to feed in someone else's place without permission."

"Especially when that someone is bigger than you," a deep voice added.
The two Browns whirled to see a huge Brook trout, nearly twice the length of either of them, rising slowly out of the depths and eying them with benevolent wisdom. Other than his size and boldly hooked kype, he showed no sign of age. His colors were vibrantly bright, and the only wear on any of his fins was the bottom of the caudal fin, badge of a successful and enthusiastic spawner.

"Hmm! Two young Browns, coloring up nicely... Been in the stream some time. Fins still a bit ragged. Stocked this spring?" Brigit nodded. He continued, "Never mind. By next Spring you'll look like you lived here forever. Like me!" He chuckled, gills waving whimsically. "Now, why would two lovely ladies such as yourselves be seeking male company of a different species?"

Sarah blushed, her sparse red spots turning even redder. "It's said you know about the world beyond the Sky."

"Aaaah," he sighed with satisfaction, "You seek knowledge. That's the only way to survive in the Stream, you know."

"Those of us who didn't learn fast, vanished fast," Brigit shivered. "We don't know how. And, frankly, sir, we're scared."

"There's plenty to be scared of," he intoned ominously. "Why, just a few hours' easy swim downstream, there are Otters. They are funny-shaped fish with long fins, covered with moss instead of scales. Very large, very fast, very deadly. They'll even attack something my size. Worst of all, they can go through the Sky and stay there." The two Browns gasped. "Yes, indeed! So they can come diving down through the Sky and grab you, SNAP! with big teeth like pike have. No warning." He surveyed the pale, trembling Browns and nodded emphasis. "I'd advise you to never go downstream of here."

"NO warning?" Sarah asked, gills beating fast with agitation.

"Well, I was exaggerating just a bit," he confessed, "They are the deadliest predators in the stream. But you can see them, paddling about on the surface, before they dive."

This excited Sarah. "I think I saw one once! It was swimming on the surface, then dove and snatched Ralph!"

"Did you see teeth? And moss? And when it was swimming, did it have two fins or four?"

"I didn't notice teeth. It seemed smooth, but covered with bubbles. But I do recall clearly it had only two fins, anal fins," Sarah replied.

"That was a Merganser," the Old Native said, "Otters and Mergansers can prey in any depth of water, but you can see them coming. Get under cover when you do."

"You can count on it," Brigit agreed fervently. "We've also noticed a lot of predators that only work the shallows, though."

"That's right," the big Brookie concurred. "There are several that look like Otters, but live entirely above the Sky. They are called Raccoons and Mink."

"What about shadows on sticks?" Sarah asked eagerly.

After a few questions, the Old Native was able to figure it out. "A Heron. But they go mostly for smaller fish, only in the shallows, and by the time you are close enough for them to be a danger, you can see them through your Sky Window." He hesitated for a long minute, then asked, "Have you ever noticed a shadow on two stumps, like a huge Heron?"

"Yes," Brigit said casually, "There were lots of them right after we arrived at the stream, then less and less. Haven't seen one for many, many days."

"Some of those are Angels," the Old Native said, reverence in his tone.

"You mean, like they say you see after you die?" Sarah asked, awed.

"Exactly." The old Brookie cleared his gills, and continued, "It may sound a little strange, but I saw one. I went beyond the Sky once, and was sent back from Death by an Angel."

"We had heard that you passed beyond the Sky and returned," Brigit said, "That's why we sought you out. Will you tell us about it?"

The Old Native looked flattered. "Of course. It was long ago, when I was smaller than either of you. I lived downstream then, in a deep cut behind a rock. I was just hanging out one day, feeding on whatever happened to float by, when suddenly I found myself swimming sideways."

"Like a hurt minnow?" Sarah wondered.

"No, just swimming towards the right bank. No matter how hard I tried to swim back to my position, I couldn't do it. It was like some mysterious force was pulling me towards that right bank."

"A current?" Brigit asked.

"As strong as one, but there was nothing pushing me; It was definitely pulling. An anti-current, you might call it." He looked pensive. "I swam as hard as I could against it, but whenever I'd tire, it would pull me back. I even tried flinging myself though the Sky, hoping there's be no anti-current there, but each time I fell back though the Sky, there it was again. At last I could fight it no longer." He paused, enjoying the impatient wriggles of his fascinated listeners.

"What happened?" they chorused when the suspense became overwhelming. He smiled with satisfaction at their reaction.

"Well, I was hauled almost all the way to the right bank," he told the rapt trout, "That's when I noticed a pair of stumps I'd never seen there before. But that was trivial compared to what happened next: I was yanked right through the Sky!"

"Wow!"

"But beyond the Sky is... Death!"

"Right you are, Sarah," he agreed. "And a terrible place it is, too. Crushing pressure, deafening high-pitched noise, blinding light. I couldn't breathe, and something was tugging at my head. I knew I was dying."

"But you didn't," Brigit pointed out.

"Obviously," he sniffed, then sobered abruptly. "A miracle occurred. I noticed I was lying on something warm, and something else warm was stroking me gently, like a hen fish at spawning time. Beyond the hideous noise I could hear a soft, pleasant, high-pitched murmuring. Against the light, surrounded by the light, was a Being, colored like a Brown trout, but blotchy instead of spotted. Its face was flat, and uglier than an old chub's, but when I met its eyes, I knew I wasn't going to die. In fact, I sensed somehow that it admired me, and wished me well."

"An Angel," Sarah breathed with awe.

"Yes," he agreed, no less reverently. "It held me back under the Sky, still stroking me like a lover. I reveled in the pleasant sensations, and being the right weight and able to breathe again, and just knowing I was alive. Then it gave me a gentle push, and off I swam."

All three were silent for a few moments, busy with their thoughts, then the big Brookie added, "I know there are skeptics, those who doubt my story."

"No!"

"Not us!"

He smiled fondly, and said, "I know you two believe me. But for those skeptics, I have proof. Each fish that is touched by an Angel bears a Mark. Look here, near the hinge of my left jaw." The two swam close, and there, just where he said it would be, was an old horizontal scar, no longer than the width of a trout's eye.

"Oooo!" Brigit was impressed.

"Now, don't you think of going off and looking for Angels," he warned her. "Most of the shadows-on-stumps you'll see are Giant Herons, predators. If they get you, you're dead and not coming back."

"Remember what happened to our mates that arrived here with us," Sarah added.

"That's right," the Old Native agreed. "They disappeared. You survived. Keep it that way, little friends. Now, shall we snack? Tale-telling is hungry work." They headed for the logjam.

Afterwards, they said their goodbyes and thanks. The last thing the old trout said to the Browns before they set out on their journey home was, "Stay away from those predators from beyond the Sky, remember. But if one does get you, may it be an Angel."

Days passed, and the two Browns discussed the marvelous story of the Old Native as they lay in their cushion between hatches. When they tired of talking, they each digested the information he'd shared with them. They were both more alert and aware of the world around them than before, and of the world beyond the Sky they could see only in distorted glimpses through their Sky Windows. They knew most of what they were seeing now, and could make shrewder guesses about new things they observed. This was perhaps the greatest gift the old trout had given them.

One afternoon they were resting in silent companionship, when they spotted an object coming down the current. It was like nothing they'd ever seen before; Indeed, like nothing they'd ever imagined. It was green. Not the subdued green of a Caddis larva, the cheery green of water weeds, or even the bright green of grannoms. This was a vivid, glowing green thing, shaped something like a Caddis pupa, something like a hatching nymph with attached shuck, but not identical to anything in their watery world. It drifted closer, bobbing and undulating right at the level of their fascinated eyes.

"What is it?" Sarah whispered, her gaze riveted on the chartreuse speck.

"I don't know," Brigit replied, "Not food. Not that shape. Not that color!"
Sarah didn't answer.

"Sarah? Are you OK?"

Sarah's fins and gills beat faster in sheer curiosity, moving her unconsciously closer to the odd green thing.

"Sarah, get away from that thing! I don't like it!" Brigit cried frantically.

"I'm just trying to figure out what it is. It's so pretty!" Sarah said absentmindedly, as she drifted along, her nose a scant fin length from the mesmerizing object, examining it minutely.

She sucked it in to analyze it by touch and taste.

Suddenly she shot out of their cozy home, heading up and across stream. Brigit followed, but couldn't keep up with her sister's wild speed and abrupt course changes. At one point they even collided, but Sarah hardly seemed to notice. Brigit gave up on the chase and just watched Sarah's inexplicable antics. Sarah raced about until she was spent and panting, just beneath the mirrored surface of the Sky. But, oddly enough, she kept moving, even though her fins were still. A terrified Brigit swam after her.

"No, Brigit!" Sarah cried, "It's the anti-current! Stay away or you might get caught in it, too!"

Then Brigit spied the twin stumps, and knew Sarah was doomed. Helplessly she watched as her friend was pulled towards them then vanished through the Sky. 

For a short time she just stayed there, overwhelmed by shock and despair. Then, just as she began to turn away, Sarah reappeared below the Sky. She was being cradled in two huge finlike objects, which stroked and supported her. Spotting Brigit, she gave a glad cry and spurted from between them, eager to rejoin her friend.

"Brigit! It's true! It's all true! There are Angels!" Sarah's excitement far outweighed her exhaustion.

Brigit rubbed and nudged her sister, reassuring herself that Sarah was alive and well after her experience beyond the Sky. Suddenly, her nose touching her sister's jaw, she froze. "Sarah! You've been Marked!"

The slit torn in Sarah's lip cartilage would heal into a scar just like the one borne by the Old Native.

"Of course," she laughed, "I've been to Death and back, and touched by an Angel."

 --Rabbit Jensen--
Winter 2009 Issue