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Thursday |
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Old folks and school kids on field
trips, tourists speaking no English,
all have come to watch
the fish. Only one in a
thousand makes it from egg to ocean and
back upstream to spawn. A single king among the
sockeye, too early in the season but
it's his last chance. He's tired.
Younger, sleeker fish
wriggle past as he holds the line, never moving
forward an inch the whole time. I overhear an
old man say, "I could never be a salmon." But so far he's survived. |
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