Assisi: An Online Journal of Arts & Letters Volume 4, Issues 1 & 2 | Page 43

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Despite the excitement there was no action whatsoever, and one by one
the boys got discouraged and began to move around and spread out. Frankie
disappeared over the bank to where the Shabakunk emptied into the Assunpink.
Wally and Davey doubled back towards the road, where in the past they’d hooked
painted turtles, which were considered nuisances and tossed out onto the road to
be crushed by passing vehicles. Before long only Mack and Eddie were left on the
sandy bank.
For a while Mack watched Eddie work his rig, but nothing happened. On a
whim he decided to gather his gear and cross the frigid water to one of the islets
that formed a small archipelago to the west of the big creek. After all, there was
no one around to stop him.
When he reached the first link, he felt like he had to go further. He made it
to the second, and then to the third, lifting his legs high and trying to land on flat
rocks whenever he could in order to keep his sneakers dry, until finally he could
no longer hear the voices of his buddies.
The islet was dry and verdant and something like a tiny garden of Eden.
Mack wondered how many human beings had ever actually set foot on it. If you
couldn’t see it from the road, how would you even know it was there? He
marched around the circumference and studied his surroundings. They were
studded with early purple wildflowers, swamp maples and tilting birches, and on
the north bank there was a huge weeping willow whose lush branches gently
brushed the surface of the water.
From what he could see, there wasn’t any wildlife, no skunks, raccoons,
rabbits or groundhogs. He dropped his tackle and paper lunch sack on a mat of
emerald grass. The water ran deep off the eastern bank, where the sun was still
on the rise and beginning to thaw the earth, and it moved much faster there than
in other spots. According to what he’d read in Field And Stream, this was where
the trout were liable to be hiding.

!!Assisi!!!37!