Fishing Scene

Fishing Scene

From Kiss of a King Brown…

I love this scene: Joseph the Koori elder and Sean the young boy are going fishing and the story imparts something of the mysticism and meaning of “the bush” and river for the indigenous people and the wonder of it for the young boy.

Plus I love fishing…

Joseph was waiting for him outside his hut, a wisp of smoke curling from the fire hung lazily in the air, the smell of the river, red gums, smoke, and tea welcomed him like an old friend. But above all a aroma like his mum’s scones washed over him and made his mouth water despite his just completed breakfast. The greyness of the new day made everything seem larger; the colour of the bush was muted. The old man greeted him with ‘you bin have some tucker yet,’ gesturing to the fire where a blackened camp oven lay half submerged in the coals. ‘Ah just a little bit thank you’ ‘my dad was up.’ Joseph opened the oven and with a pair of tongs handled out the big damper, brown all over and smelling like a bakers shop. He sliced and buttered the steaming

damper, holding the pieces with a cloth. He opened a jam tin adding huge dollops of apricot. ‘Have some Sean you need it to stick inside for this little walk we do.’ It was wonderful; they washed it down with sweetened tea. ‘You look like you like that’ laughed the old man. ‘Yep.’ A Kookaburra laughed nearby the old man turned toward the sound ‘He a noisy bloke that fella, one time Nooralie spirit fella he said those Koori people becoming lazy, we need have some fella bin wake them up in the mornin, so he call Kookaburra to him. Hey you fella have big voice and giving me cheek all the time you bin now have a job, you wake up the world every day. You white fella have that rooster bloke who  does the same job, when them two get going no one dam sleep, all have to get up,’ he laughed again. ‘Joseph you have a story for everything, why? Joseph pondered a moment. ‘Nooralie that Great Spirit he in all things, animals, plants, trees, rocks, land, river, and men, everything, he joins us all together and so we all related. Those stories tell of his creation and why it happen, they help us Koori fella to understand what’s

going on. Any way enough talkin let’s get along and get some nice Kooya fish fella.’

 

Joseph picked up a gunny sack and khaki army bag and threw them over his shoulders saying, ‘you bringum that rod along to, he bin catchin some fish today maybe. We go up to Gunpowder Creek side of that Gunpowder Island.’ He strode off down the track leading away from the camp toward the mill. In the mill the big logs lay in gigantic piles, the smell of red gum and smoke from the large incinerator washed over them and made Sean’s nose tingle. The old man did not saying anything but loped along, Sean hurrying behind him. Soon the smell of tobacco joined that of the red gum as Joseph lit his pipe. The early sounds of work drifted towards them, the distant rumble of the timber lorries sounding off as they skirted the yard, the pulleys and jacks lifting and moving the logs. On the left side the glimmer of the river occasionally glinted through the trees. Soon they broke into Manning Street the main thoroughfare of Koonarook. The early morning train to Ketanga was being turned around on the turntable at its end. Its diesel puffing out black smoke, future passengers huddled on the station platform waiting for it to pull up. Mr Corrigan the station master waved to them as they went past, Joseph doffed his hat and smiled. He looked at Sean ‘that fella Corrigan he good fella he let me travel to Ketanga for free when I wanna go there sometime, I drop him in a fish now and then, he like fish that fella,’ Sean nodded. The pace did not slacken they crossed the street in front of the Shamrock Hotel, the smell of fried bacon from its kitchens and the stench of stale beer from its veranda greeting them. Then they turned down an unnamed dirt track, the horse paddocks on either side giving way to the bush in the close distance. Grey mobs of kangaroos bounded away out of the paddocks startled by the crunch of their feet on the gravel. They were

soon in the bush and skirting between a billabong and the river, the flat glassy water of the billabong steaming in the morning light. They woke up the resident ducks which scurried away struggling to get into the air. Water hens hurriedly hid in the reeds and bullrushes of the billabongs shore, the reeds still dripping with the perspiration of the night.

The loping steady pace of the man ahead never altered, the sway of the sack and bags was always the same, The road gave way to a track, ‘this Gunpowder Island fella road, we go down this over that bridge to the island.’ They approached a rickety wooden bridge over a creek that had a lazy swirl of water in it about twenty feet wide, they went across it and turned right along a barely distinct path. The trees here were bigger and wider apart they walked roughly parallel to the creek. Joseph stopped by a big straight red gum marked with a yellow slash, he ran his hand over its rough bark. ‘This fella he bin here long time, them white fella they soon bin come and chop him down take him to the mill, make him into houses and chairs sometimes just burn it. They keep choppin and cutting no place for Mingga to live, the spirit of the tree’s he gone, who gonna keep the Marmoo away.’ He sighed and squatted under the tree, the sky was starting to turn blue.

 

 

Joseph lit his pipe again and the smoke rose around him ‘Maybe Tamba Tamba time is gone and the Marmoo will rule in this place.’ He bent down and scraped away the fallen undergrowth and top layer of grey dirt. ‘Ah hah, Naruoo, Naruoo he here,’ he laughed ‘we bin have some grub for your fishing pole Sean, you lucky fella.’ He retrieved a short length of wire and a cotton wad from the gunny sack, poking it down a hole the size of his thumb. And then he withdrew it and on its end was a wriggling long grub all white and segmented with a tan end ‘ah ha’ he laughed again. ‘Naruoo, Naruoo you little good fella for fish ah ha he’ his laughter was infectious and Sean joined him. ‘These fella good to eat, white fella call them Bardi grubs, but better to fish with then eat I’m thinkin’ Then he did it all over again and again until he had a dozen grubs which he placed in an empty tobacco tin. He showed Sean how to do it and Sean captured a couple as well ‘Sean fella you bin gonna catch that Kooya.’ he grinned and went to the tree and stroked it tenderly. ‘Where all these Naruoo gonna go and Mingga, when you gone.’ Then he shook his head, and walked silently on…

 

 

Kooya

 

Suddenly the rod in his hand jumped and he grabbed hold tightly to stop it going into the river, line spun quickly of the Bakelite reel. Sean jumped to his feet ‘I got one, I got one’! He yelled, Joseph laughed ‘you bin hang onto that fella, he bin take you into the river.’ The rod bent almost double, ‘keep that rod up’ encouraged Joseph. Sean was on the water’s edge his arms started aching from the strain. Occasionally he could wind in some line but mostly he just held on, and hoped the fish did not, snag, or break the line. Joseph stood beside him encouraging and giving instructions. Slowly Sean was able to bring more line in, the rod stayed bent, the line tight but it was getting easier. Sweat stood on his brow, even though it was a cool, the sun was now nearly up level with the tops of the trees on the far bank, the line went up and down the

river. But slowly the tension on the line eased the movement up and down became less agitated, it felt like a dead weight, it was as though he was hauling in a sack of potatoes. ‘You bin don’t take that fella out of the water he bin break your line, I gonna have to bring him in by the gills, you hear that boy’ ‘Yep’ Sean said his voice strained, slowly it came, the fin and back of the fish broke the water, not twenty feet from where he was, it came reluctantly, every now and then it gave a last effort, but eventually it subsided. Joseph walked into the water and hooked  his hands through its gills. ‘This mighty Kooya for young fella to catch’ The fish lay half in half out of the water its gigantic head was the size of a football, the mouth opening and closing in quick starts, the end of the big hook protruding out of it,  the large shiny black eyes the size of pennies. The back of the mighty fish rose sharply away from its head, where a large jutting fin ran, the dorsal fin, big square and nearly rectangular, then the back continued down onto the tail which for the size of the fish was small. His belly was even larger than his head and

Sean doubted whether he could get his arms around it. The skin was motley green and yellow with a pattern that reminded Sean of German Tiger tanks that he had seen in war comics. Sean panted ‘he’s so beautiful’ ‘um he make up some good tucker for us hungry fellas’ exclaimed Joseph. ‘Yeh’ said Sean with uncertainty, Joseph looked at him intently, ‘You wanna eat this fella fish.’ The boy paused looked at the fish stroked its back ‘he’s so beautiful, he fought so well and so long, he’s a champion fish, a bonzer fish, I will never probably catch anything so big and beautiful again ever.’ Joseph laughed ‘Ponde fella, he your totem maybe your brother, he bin sent here by Nooralie to teach you. We put him back, Nooralie will send you more Kooya, this one your brother.’ Sean nodded, running his hands over the fish’s side noticing a deep scar on the right side. ‘What’s that there Joseph?’ ‘Ah when this one young fella, Kookaburra or maybe a Cormorant try to have him for tea but only graze him, left mark on him maybe like you, he bin marked. Nooralie he bin send you a message.’ ‘Ah let’s get him back’…


Do you have any fishing stories?

Kiss of the King Brown was published in 2012 and is available on all platforms.