On Wednesday I went fishing at my sister’s Papa’s pond. We were trying to catch catfish for dinner. I bated my own hooks with fat live crickets, live worms, and some very dead marshmallows…it was nasty. No one caught anything with the marshmallows except Aunt Sara. I only caught 4 little fish, not catfish. Her Grany, Sara, caught both of the two catfish in the bucket. No one was in the mood for catfish (especially me), so we threw them back even though I myself was not confident that the poor things were still alive. They had rolled belly up from the heat out side but their fins were still moving a bit. They did in fact swim, a little frantically to get away from their captors, away from the shore were we had dumped them back.