For the past month, Phil has been looking forward to visiting his uncle’s lake house.  Pressed against suitcases of clothes and fighting for space in the backseat of his parent’s minivan, he stared outside the window, leaning his head on the car door. With the same apprehension of a child the morning of Christmas, Phil pressed his face against the glass when his dad slowed down and turned on the the gravel road leading to his uncle’s place.

Ever since he was little, Phil has had a passion for fishing. He loved everything about it. Gathering all the needed supplies and gear, and collecting unique lures and rods has always been fun to him. Phil loved the act of fishing itself. Casting the line and sitting back just feels right to him. When fishing, he never needs to do anything other than take in the landscape. Everything becomes quiet and serene. Phil has always enjoyed shutting his eyes and letting the sounds of water sloshing against the shoreline envelope his mind. However, fishing has always been mostly about the fish themselves. Phil loves studying fish, and has always been fascinated by their appearance and behaviors. Phil also loves preparing his catch. Fresh fish has always been a favorite of his, and there is something special about coming home and helping prepare the fish that he caught that makes him happy.

So when Phil learned that his family would be spending a month this summer at his uncle’s lake house, where he and his cousin have always gone out on a motorboat and fished entire days away, he was bound to be a bit excited. The road leading up to the house was completely overshadowed by trees. The forest was composed of mostly Hickory trees, with the occasional gargantuan Oak reaching beyond its fellows to catch the clouds. Combined, these trees were so densely packed that their overhanging branches managed to block out most sunlight. Despite it being a sunny morning, Phil’s family had to pay close attention to the road, watching out for stray branches and logs that might’ve fallen onto the path. The only bits of light came from where sun rays had breached the tree’s defenses and cascaded down on the forest floor. Had Phil been looking, he would’ve found the scenery beautiful, with the few spotlights coloring leaves and foliage a bright emerald color, contrasting against the dartmouth green of the rest of the forest.

However, Phil was busy daydreaming about fishing adventures that were sure to come. The side of his head was still pressed against the backseat window, and he was scrunched between mother’s suitcase and the side door. With his breath fogging the glass, he peered outside, not really looking at anything in particular. The path to his uncle’s house was bumpy and strenuous on the over filled minivan. It struggled to make it’s way up and down the hills that were common along the road.  Phil had to push against the suitcases to avoid being crushed as the van shook it’s cargo about.

When the road became smoother, Phil began to pay more attention to the scenery outside the window. The forest had given way to a clearing, and the gravel road turned to asphalt. The path lead up a hill to a small, burgundy colored house that Phil distinctly remembered. It was propped on the side of a hill, with one side of the house being considerably longer than the other. Tree’s still greatly influenced the landscape, casting long shadows from the sides of the clearing.
What Phil’s eyes immediately moved to, however, was the lake. It was smaller than he remembered it, as it was still recovering from a recent drought that hit the area. Despite this, it still managed to inspire his elation.  As the van crawled up the final hill, he watched the waves lap against the rickety dock that was connected to the lake house. Near the small, wooden harbor, Phil saw a streak of silver. He watched as it ruptured the surface of the water, and managed to catch a glimpse of scales and a fin before it disappeared. He grew giddy with anticipation.
“Did you guys see that?” Phil shouted out, hoping to share what only he had seen.

Although he desperately wanted to get out onto the water, Phil instead had to unpack clothes and follow the adult ritual of socializing. After hugs and handshakes were given to every family member, Phil had to endure the doting comments from his aunts and grandparents. Each of them talked about how much he has grown since the last time they had seen him, They asked questions about his social life. (His uncle in particular wouldn’t stop prying for information regarding his new girlfriend.) Phil didn’t necessarily hate this, but was growing impatient with the never ending conversation. His eyes kept wandering over to the sparkling water, and he wanted nothing more than to jump onto the motor boat bobbing by the dock. The image of the fish he saw earlier would carry him into the evening and up until the next morning where his father, uncle, and cousin would go out with him to fish.

With his eyes snapping open, Phil sprang up from his bed. He had made it through the night, if only barely. Looking around, he saw the bits of light filtering through the window next to his bed. It was morning, and judging from the snoring coming from each bedroom, Phil guessed that it was still very early. Quietly sliding off his bed he made his way down the stairs, still in his pajamas. The main living space didn’t have carpeting, so Phil moved quickly to one of the couches situated in the center of the room, his bare feet half walking, half hopping across the unfinished cement floor. Plopping himself down on the couch, about to nestle in, Phil was startled to see his cousin Eli sitting on the opposite end.

“Where did you come from” Phil blurted out. “How did I not see you?”

Eli answered, “Either I’m a ninja, or you aren’t really awake yet. Are you hungry?”

Phil considered for a moment, then said “Yeah, I’ll just a have a few sausage links. I’m hoping to save room for the fish were having tonight.”

“Good plan. When you're done, do you wanna go out check out the lake? We might even find some bait for the trip later.”

“Sounds great!”

After snarfing down a microwaved box of frozen sausage and changing into more suitable clothes, the boys moved out the back door, and sprinted across the clearing to the water. The lake was absolutely stunning at this time of day. The water shimmered as the sun cast its rays across its surface. It swayed and rippled as the morning breeze pushed it about. Off in the distance, the two could see another early riser speeding across the water on his own motor boat. Phil and Eli immediately began to climb across the rocks that bordered the lake, looking for anything moving while they did so. Due to last summer’s drought, the beach was considerably larger.

Slowly scanning the perimeter, the boys found only a few artifacts: an abandoned hermit crab shell, a deceased oyster, and the oversized claw of a crawfish. Those things were fine, but what Phil and his cousin were really looking for was living things. Aside from the ever present wolf spiders who lived in the nooks and crannies of the rocks, and the occasional small snail, they were out of luck. Even though Phil and Eli had walked far enough away that the lake house was barely distinguishable, they didn’t manage to see a single fish.

Continuing along the shore, the boys ran into the overflow. A large structure, the overflow was essentially a deep, hollowed out rectangle of concrete. Surrounded by fences, its job was to prevent the lake from overflowing and moving up people’s lawns. When the water got too high, it would spill over the overflow cement walls. The drop was roughly twenty feet, and Phil could distinctly remember being in awe when great volumes of water plummeted down the hole, like a waterfall. The water continued under the beach and the adjacent highway, where it's channeled and collected through a smaller cement complex leading to a creek that cuts through the thick forest.

Phil had good memories of exploring down by the overflow, and was excited to see it again. He leaped across the rocks so fast that Eli had trouble keeping up with him. After almost slipping on loose stones twice, Phil  caught sight of the metal fence that bordered the complex and pressed against it, pearing through. He was surprised to see that the overflow had changed considerably compared to how he remembered it. The deep square where water should be pouring over in huge quantities was almost empty. Instead of a huge, gushing waterfall, only a steady trickle of water managed to make it over the wall. The last time he visited, the overflow was so full of water that it would’ve been safe to dive straight into. Now, the lichen covered floor of the structure was perfectly visible. Phil listened to the sounds of water droplets echoing in the chamber contrasting to the roaring of the waterfall he had heard in the past. He stood pressed against the fence for awhile, until Eli finally managed to catch up with him.

“Do you have to always run ahead like that? You know I can’t keep up. What are you looking a-” Eli stopped short. After taking a closer look, he said. 

“This must be because of the drought.” After chucking a small rock over the fence and watching it crash against the barren walls, sending out an echo in the hollow chamber, Eli suggested,

“Let’s cross the road and check out the overflow by the creek. We should hurry up though, my dad will want to head out fishing pretty soon.”

Moving themselves away from the lake and across the highway, the boys descended the grassy hill leading towards the mouth of the creek. They had to move slowly to avoid pricking themselves on thorns and burrs. The trees huddled together on the outskirts of the field fight with the sun, shrouding most of the landscape in shadow.

Phil and Eli approached the smaller end of the overflow. It’s concrete walls were only about six feet high, and although it was blocked off by fences on three sides, Phil and Eli  would only need to move down to the mouth of the creek to wade in. The trickle of water from the lake was more substantial than the two had previously thought. There was still a stream of water flowing, but it wasn’t very deep. To avoid getting his clothes wet, Phil took off his shoes and rolled up his pant cuffs. As the boys descended into the overflow, something caught their attention. An animal was moving in the water, causing ripples. Eli, unwilling to take off his shoes and get his feet wet, encouraged Phil.

“Hey, go check that out. Step in there and see what it is.”

Phil responded, “It’s obviously a fish. Do you think I could catch it?”

“Sure, if you want to get your hand bitten off.”

As he got closer, the rippling evolved into frantic splashing. Phil strained his eyes, and like the day before, was able to catch a glimpse of a silvery fin. A small bluegill, no longer than six inches head to tail, has been desperately trying to move itself away from the approaching boy. The water it was trapped in was so low, that it was forced to lay on it’s side. It’s movement was obscuring Phil’s view, so he decided to stand still for a moment. From the shore, Eli watched closely, neither of the boys making a sound.

The fish stopped trying to escape, and Phil was able to get a better appreciation of its appearance. The bluegill's head was short and stocky, and it’s mouth opened and closed in rhythmic patterns as it struggled to breath. It’s flat body barely moved. Partly due to the shadows that enveloped the river, and partly due to the murkiness of the water, the fishes details were obscure. Phil still managed to make out the beautiful blue spot on its fins and the dark green stripes that covered its body.

Driven by curiosity, Phil moved forward slightly, hoping to touch the fish. As he did so, the bluegill commenced its flailing. Unfortunately, the fish was all but stuck, and couldn’t move more than a few inches. It’s fins moved feebly in an attempt to get away. Wading towards the trapped animal, Phil outstretched an arm. As the bluegill continued it’s frantic movements, the water around it suddenly began to boil. Startled, he pulled his hand back. Situated all around the bluegill were fish just like it, all stuck in a similar fashion. The water had hidden them from their view. Wanting to get a better look at the entire scene, Phil climbed out of the overflow.

Looking through the metal fence, the boys were amazed at just how many fish were trapped down below. They must have slipped down into the empty structure, and flopped their way down the channel. None of them were able to progress towards the creek due to a few unfortunately situated rocks. Phil and Eli looked on excitedly, trying to count all the fish. Although both boys were fishing enthusiasts, the novelty of the situation soon wore off for Eli. Phil, on the other hand, enjoyed looking at the fish themselves. He always had an appreciation of their appearance. 

“Hey, I bet  our parents are anxious to get out on the water. We should probably head back.” Eli said impatiently.
Without even looking up, Phil haphazardly responded, “I guess.” He was still focused on the creatures trapped in the water.

“I’m gonna stay here and look at the fish a little longer, OK? You can go ahead and check on everybody. Tell them where I am.”

Eli shrugged his shoulders, and started to head back to the cabin. As his cousin sprinted up the hill, Phil continued to watch in fascination. There were really all sorts of fish trapped down there. He counted multiple bluegills, including the one he almost touched, a few small bass, and some walleye. Although each of these fish were different, they were all stuck in the same situation. As Phil watched their fins and tails move about in vain, he began to feel something other than curiosity. He noticed how most of the fish were barely moving, the life almost out of them. It suddenly struck Phil as very sad. These animals were stuck in a horrible trap, and there was nothing for them to do but slowly decay. Some fish were even bleeding from wounds they acquired struggling against the coarse cement. Filled with a strange sense of pity, his eyes again fell onto the bluegill from before.

Phil stepped cautiously into the water not wanting to disturb its inhabitants. He moved towards the tiny fish, who again spasmed about. Without hesitating this time, Phil reached out and grabbed the fish’s back. While lifting it up, he was surprised by how little of a fight the bluegill was actually giving. Once fully out of the water, the fish hung limply in Phil’s hand, seeming to accept whatever was coming to him. It’s mouth was the only thing that moved, still desperately gasping for air.

Phil pressed it against his chest and supported it with both hands. Without even bothering to put his shoes on, he raced up the grassy hill, out of the shadow’s reach. Moving across the highway as fast as he could, Phil finally made it to the bank of the lake. Quickly squatting down, he  submerged the fish into the water.
Phil grew worried when it just hung there. As he loosened his grip, the bluegill started to float belly up. Not really expecting the fish make it, Phil still made an effort to gently move it through the water, trying to get water through it’s gills. He was about to give up, when suddenly, the fish seemed to come back to life. Dully arching its back, the bluegill slowly turned itself around. After flexing it’s fins, the fish smoothly swam from his hands, disappearing instantly in the dark waters of the lake.

After catching his breath, Phil started walking back towards the house. He stopped mid stride, however, and glanced back towards the river on the other side of the road. In the back of his mind, he knew it was dumb. He was a fisherman, and was contradicting himself by going out of his way to save dying fish. Still, he jogged back to the mouth of the river. When he caught fish on his hook, it was different. He never thought about them as thinking animals, capable of feelings. It was nothing more than a game really. The fish was the prize, not a sentient creature. The fish he caught were always lively, fighting against the line. These fish had given up, knowing that they were slowly dying. Their bodies barely moved, and their eyes were turning a ghostly white. Phil couldn’t relate to fish before, but these poor creatures inspired pity. And if he had saved one, it didn’t make any sense to leave the others…

So Phil set to work, wading into the water and grabbing the next bluegill. Each fish he saved gave him a sense of satisfaction, and every trek up the hill had him relating to the animals more and more. Phil even found himself speaking words of encouragement to the fish.

“Hang in there little fellas, you’ll be back in the lake soon.”

Eventually Phil decided to try and rescue one of the larger bass that was wedged between two rocks. Unlike the bluegills, the larger fish didn’t stop it’s struggling. Practically hugging the foot long beast, Phil slowly and painfully made his way up the hill. By the time he had finally released the bass into the lake he was exhausted. Sitting down, he wondered if he’d have the energy to even sit up again. A loud yell startled Phil, who jolted to his feet. He was relieved to see Eli, his dad, and his uncle sitting about twenty feet from shore on the motor boat.

“Hey!” Phil’s uncle yelled. “We're all set! Your dad brought your rod and lures, and we even got a cooler full of snacks! Let's go show those fishies who's boss!”

Phil had to stop and think. His initial response was excitement. The fishing trip he had been waiting months for was finally upon him, and yet something seemed wrong. There were still many fish back at the overflow. To suddenly stop saving lives, all to go out on a boat and kill some didn’t make any sense. Phil didn’t understand how these stupid fish he just met an hour ago were changing him so much.

“What are you staring at? Hop on the boat! Let’s go!”

Eli’s yelling snapped him out of a stare. After explaining the situation, Phil surprised his family and himself. On a whim, he decided to stay back from the trip he had been so excited about. No one on the boat really understood, but they didn’t push him. After all, Phil wasn’t the only one who enjoyed fishing!

“We have a whole month of time to kill. I’ll go with you some other day if you want to. Don’t get hit by any cars!”

Phil’s dad’s words were barely distinguishable over the roaring of the motor boat as it sped away. Still confused over his own change of heart, Phil walked back down the grassy hill.

The day went by quickly. As the hours passed, Phil began to get the hang of moving the large fish without fatiguing himself. He carried bass after bass, and at one point carried three bluegills up the hill at the same time. The sun gradually made its way across the sky. As evening descended down upon the lake, the surface of the water stilled, the breeze dying down. Phil had walked up and down the hill carrying fish throughout the entire day. When the mountains far on the other side of the lake finally caught the sun, Phil was heading down the grassy hill for the last time. He had saved every fish except for one large walleye. The last bit of light made it’s scales shine a bright golden color.

As Phil approached the fish, it wriggled weakly. Despite his aching back, Phil convinced himself to bend down one last time. He was surprised of how heavy it was. If Phil had to guess,  he would say that it weighed fifteen pounds. As he crossed the road, he was surprised to see Eli, his dad, and his uncle waiting for him down on the lake.

His uncle hollered, “Phil! Don’t release that! We didn’t catch anything the entire day, and were going to need that if we're going to eat fish tonight!”

The walleye in his arms squirmed slightly, it’s tail twitching…

Phil’s family enjoyed pizza that night.