Gah. I used to fish when I was younger, and always caught-and-released, until one day when I decided to actually catch, kill and cook a fish – I was twelve, I think, and the idea seemed awesome. Well, I caught a fish (can’t remember what kind) a big one – and it turned out to be The Fish That Would Not Die. We mainly tried bashing it with a handy branch, because nobody (least of all me) had really thought the whole ‘killing’ part through, and it just flopped around horribly. Finally my dad managed to kill it by banging its head against a rock, by which point my sister and I were in tears and I was thoroughly disgusted. Then it took two bloody hours to clean, and all I was left with was two tiny, shredded, bony clumps of meat. I can’t even remember if it tasted good.
Gah. I used to fish when I was younger, and always caught-and-released, until one day when I decided to actually catch, kill and cook a fish – I was twelve, I think, and the idea seemed awesome. Well, I caught a fish (can’t remember what kind) a big one – and it turned out to be The Fish That Would Not Die. We mainly tried bashing it with a handy branch, because nobody (least of all me) had really thought the whole ‘killing’ part through, and it just flopped around horribly. Finally my dad managed to kill it by banging its head against a rock, by which point my sister and I were in tears and I was thoroughly disgusted. Then it took two bloody hours to clean, and all I was left with was two tiny, shredded, bony clumps of meat. I can’t even remember if it tasted good.