Of Cherokee Waters

September 6th 2023

I crouch down on a rock along the Watauga’s edge, the toes of my boots dipping into the river, and I feel your grip on my shoulder holding me steady as I reach down into the water. The trout wriggles about for a moment and I slip the palm of my hand under its belly and around its fins. I hold the fish firmly, bringing it upward, just slightly breaching the surface of the river. As the water runs between my fingers and over the body of the trout, the vibrant colors of its scales shimmer in the evening sun. Its gills flap steadily, and its glassy eyes peer upward into mine. I am captivated by its beauty.

The shutter of the camera clicks as you snap a photo over my shoulder. I reach into the rainbow’s mouth and carefully pull the hook from its lip. I submerge it fully and it hesitates for a moment, suspended in my hand and re-acclimating to the current.

And as quickly as it gracefully appears, the trout vanishes back into the rocky shadows of the river.