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THE
PELICAN-Proudly hosted by Fishing
Stories
By Roger Dean Kiser
After unloading our boat my son
and I headed town the Sacramento
River for a day of fishing. Earlier
that week Roger and I had found
a nice fishing spot located in
Potato Slough, just off the San
Jaquine River. It was quiet, out
of the wind and the currents were
perfect for catching striped bass.
It was important to me that I
teach my son exactly what catch
and release meant. That a sport
could be very enjoyable without
having to kill anything.
We fished for several hours before
the wind began to kick up. The
waves became rough and even more
so when boat after boat passed
us, at a high rate of speed, heading
into the various marinas along
the river.
One large fishing boat slowed
down when he noticed us sitting
up in the tall weeds. He immediately
turned and headed in our direction.
I was surprised when he pulled
up, less than twenty yards from
us, and began tying up his boat.
I watched as he threw out ten
or fifteen open cans of dog to
chum up the fish, which was illegal.
I was surprised that within minutes
he had caught a large twenty or
thirty pound fish.
He baited up again, stood and
cast out his line. When he did
the bait flew off the hook and
fell into the water. From out
of nowhere, and I mean from out
of nowhere, a large pelican swooped
down and picked up the floating
bait.
The fisherman reeled in, baited
his hook and once again threw
out his line. The large bird dove
after the bait and grabbed it
before it has a chance to sink.
The man jerked back on his fishing
pole, as hard as he could, hooking
the pelican in the beak. The bird
letout a high pitch scream and
began to fight with all its might.
The fisherman, his fishing poled
doubled over, continued hauling
the screaming, frightened bird
up to his boat. Most of the time
the large Pelican was being drug
beneathneath the water
“What the heck are you
doing?” I yelled out.
He paid me no attention as he
hauled the terrified, half drowned
flapping bird up into his boat.
I watched as he fought with the
animal. There were arms, legs,
wings and water flying everywhere.
While holding the large bird between
his legs he reached over, grabbed
his tackle box and pulled out
a large knife.
Thinking he was going to cut
the fishing line, I just stood
watching. All at once he grabbed
the bird by the neck and flipped
it upside down.
“What are you going to
do?” I screamed.
“This son-of-a-bitch won’t
eat anyone else’s bait.
I’m gonna cut off his damn
beak.”
I reached over, grabbed my flare-gun
and stuck a single cartage into
the chamber. I stood up and pointed
it toward his boat.
“Put that bird back into
the water, and I mean right now,
mister.”
The man stopped what he was doing,
looked in my direction and just
sat there.
“And just what are you
going to do with that damn thing
you stupid idiot?” he yelled
back.
I looked over at my son, his
eyes now as big as saucers and
a look of horror on his face.
“Roger, get on the radio
and call the Coast Guard, quickly”
I instructed.
He just stood there, petrified,
unable to move.
“I mean it. I’ll
shoot this damn thing right into
your gas tank, if you touch or
harm that bird in any manner,”
I told the man. I nodded my head
toward him in a very sincere manner.
The large man stood up and turned
to face me.
“I mean it. I’ll
shoot this thing and they won't
find much left of you, except
maybe a few small pieces,”
I told him.
He stood there for several seconds
then reached down and grabbed
the bird around its neck. I cocked
the flare-gun and pointed it in
the directly at the side of his
boat. Quickly, the man threw the
bird out the back of his boat
and then he faced me once again.
Staring at me, he pointed his
finger and began to shake it up
and down. "I'll get you son-of-a-bitch,"
he told me. Dropping his hand,
he turned and walked to the front
of his boat. Starting the engine
he gunned the motor and backed
out of the tulles at full throttle.
Roger Jr. and I watched as he
gave us the finger and then headed
up the river.
“Dad, would you have shot
that man with that fire pistol?”
“I don’t know, son.
I just don’t know.”
The Pelican swam around for about
thirty minutes before it came
up to the back of our boat. Roger
yelled with excitement when the
large bird jumped up onto the
backseat and began eating the
anchovies we were using for bait.
We both just sat there laughing.
Very slowly, I reached over,
opened the ice chest and took
out another package of bait. I
held out a small fish to the bird,
which he took from my hand. Surprised
the Pelican was not afraid of
us. I handed the package to Roger
and sat watching as he fed the
animal. After about fifteen minutes
it was time for us to head home.
As I stood up and the bird flew
off the transom and moved away
from the boat.
I could hardly believe my eyes
as the Pelican, for almost three
miles, flew several hundred yards
above our boat. When we pulled
into B&W Marina, the large
bird swooped down, right above
our heads, gave out several loud,
high pitch crys, then it turned
sharply upward and continued to
climb.
Was it because we had food on
our boat or was it that the pelican
wanted to make sure that we arrived
safely. I don't guess we will
ever know the answer to that question.
Roger and I watched as the pelican
became smaller and smaller and
finally disappeared into the distance.
I am nopt sure if this happened
because we had food or because
the Pelican wanted to see that
we too got back safely. I guess
Roger and I will never know. The
smile I saw on my son’s
face was worth a million dollars
and it stayed there the entire
trip home.
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