Learning to Fish. Tackle, Turtle, Traumatized.

My sister and I decided that this year I would learn to fish, or at the very least, learn the names of fish. For the record, I do not actually touch a fishing rod in this story. I commit to learning to fish. I learn about a tackle, a turtle and being traumatized. Now I hate fishing.

Pre-fishing Relaxation

I was out at my sister and brother-in-law’s beautiful cabin. I love it there because it is a picturesque and vast space on a serene lake. It is enveloped in calmness; something I rarely feel. My sister is a great fisher-woman and can catch fish for dinner using some type of aquatic telepathy she has obtained over the years. She has a kind and gentle voice and is a fashionable, educated researcher however if you watch her fillet a fish, it’s like watching something out of Animal Planet. She’s caught such large master anglers that she was in a newspaper for breaking a record. Since her achievement, I’ve believed an Angler was a type of fish and she caught one, so she is obviously a Master Angler. I even hoped to catch a small Angler myself one day.

Master Angler Fishing

My sister stood on the dock looking like a professional Master Angler. I’ve watched her put worms or minnows on the hook, cast and reel in a fish within minutes. If I ever caught anything other than seaweed, I would not only flip right out but I usually hide somewhere in the cabin while she fillets the fish. As we eat dinner, I ask her questions like “do you think the fish had a family? Do you think its family is wondering why it didn’t come home today?”

Turtle Crisis

I walked up to the dock and started talking to her about fish. She explained that she could tell exactly what was on her hook as soon as it bit because the fish have different techniques. I was impressed. She really was a Master Angler. She put another worm on the hook and I pretended to gaze at the clouds. Once she launched the hook-type Angler catcher, I started asking more questions about various types of fish. Suddenly, she started pulling on the reel extremely quickly and appeared to be in some type of wrestling match with her fishing rod. I stood there helping her by hopping from foot to foot and yelling “OMG OMG Holy Shit! What is it?! Is it a Pike? Is it an Angler?! It’s a Pike right?! I bet you one worm it’s a Pike!” She wisely ignores my comments and pulls the hook up to the dock, yanking out a very large turtle. Naturally, we both start screaming and panic ensues.

I Begin to Turtle

I squat down to the water and continue freaking out, as does my sister. She lifts the turtle a bit and I try to grab it. It either bites me or scratches me. A guy on a dock nearby yells “did you just catch a turtle?!” and I have no memory of our response. It was likely a muffled scream. I go in for the turtle again and my sister holds the rod still so I can get a better grasp on it. I finally grab around the shell and although it is scratching me, it’s not that painful so I pull it up on the dock. We are working as quickly as we can to figure out a way to get the hook out and the turtle is working equally as hard to bite, scratch and escape us. I tell myself a quick mental story about how turtles are an endangered species (not even true), I am an asshole (debatable) and this turtle is a victim of my abrasive humanness. Basically, I regret being human.

Doctor on Call?

We decide to use our ‘scream for a friend’ card and get extra help. There are actually three doctors at the cabin that day; my father and two brothers-in-law. All doctors. THREE. All of them have much more experience at surgically removing sharp objects than my sister or I. We scream for help and pliers. We hear yelling from the cabin that the tackle box is on the dock. OMF. We continue screaming that we need tools, pliers or help NOW! My sister and I are in a panicky vortex of fear, shock and helplessness. This fucking turtle. Where are my goddamn pliers? IS THERE A SOBER DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE OR WHAT?!

Eventually my dad strolls down casually as we continue to panic and yell. My sister has successfully removed the top of the fishing line from the hook however we continue to strategize about how to get the hook out. My dad drops the toolbox on the dock, takes a look at the turtle, makes a sarcastic comment about dinner and heads back to the cabin with THE REST OF THE DOCTORS. Great. My sister is, in fact, a doctor as well however she is a psychologist and as far as I know, she doesn’t provide or remove stitches from her patients (unconfirmed assumption). Utilizing our skills as best we can, she gives the turtle a little CBT as I perform Reiki on it. We now know what tools we would employ in an emergency. Talking and Reiki. Call us anytime.

Tools and Strategy

Once we received the toolbox, I held the turtle as my sister brought over pliers and my coffee cup. I am grateful for a moment, as I am feeling like a little caffeine would help. She dumps it over the dock and fills it with lake water. Caffeine hopes are over. As we try to remove the hook with the pliers, it becomes obvious that we can’t get the turtle to poke its head out long enough to help it. My sister works on it for a while, trying to gently coax the turtle out as I pour water on it. We notice that it stays in its shell on the dock but when we tip it toward the cup of water, it begins to swim.

I give the turtle to my sister, she tips it towards the water and I use the pliers to remove everything attached to the hook (worm guts). I am in fight or flight mode, hating the cabin and close to cardiac arrest. My sister is much the same.  Luckily neither of us had a heart attack because that would be an emergency and would require a doctor…

Mom on Call?

As we are working on removing the hook, I hear the turtle breathing and making noises. Both of our hearts are breaking. We can’t believe it. We’re trying not to panic or cry, and to work methodically, however the turtle is bleeding. Things are getting worse. Once we’ve cleared out everything except the metal hook, we look in the turtle shell and see that its breathing passageway is clear. It is active and moving so we continue to work, but still freak out.

Eventually my mom joins us. She was an ER nurse and does actually have some experience in this area; likely not on turtles though (again, unconfirmed). She pulls out wire cutters and suggests pulling the hook out after we trim it down. We use our swim in the air technique to get the turtle to pop its head out and between my mom and I, we snip down the wire on both ends so it is as small as possible. My sister is getting scraped up by sharp turtle claws; my mom tries to pull the turtles head forward, it pulls back, blood comes out and again, my sister and I start screaming. I’m so worried about the turtle and trying to work so carefully that I think I had an out of body experience.

Amateur Turtle Surgery

The three of us sit there for another few minutes, keeping the turtle wet and I continue Reiki for no logical reason. My sister uses the pliers to assess where the barb is in the turtle. She said she can feel it close to the top but if we rip it out, we’re likely to kill the turtle. We do another dump of water and I catch just the tip of the wire under its chin and snip it off so that it is as short as possible. The top has a very small piece sticking up however it is otherwise embedded without protrusion.

We come up with a few more ideas for the turtle. My sister and I are praying to every deity we’ve ever heard of and desperately trying to help what is now our best, best friend Mr. Turtle. Finally, we have to call it. My sister makes the decision and it is good one. She said if we continue, we will kill the turtle. It’s still alive, breathing and moving although the hook is not out. The turtle has gone through so much trauma that keeping the small wire in might give it a chance to live. If we yank the hook, it will bleed to death. We take a breath and succumb to that moment. It’s all we can do.

Surrender

My sister puts the turtle in the lake and it swims away. I wash the blood and worm off the dock with the coffee-cup lake water. We sit in silence, a depressed and surreal silence, for about fifteen minutes. Neither of us even knows how to process the turtle catastrophe. She said it has never happened before. I reflect on my years as a vegetarian and wonder why I am even on the fishing dock of death and worms and turtle trauma. After many moments of conversation about what just happened to us, we make our way back up to the cabin. I am having an existential crisis and questioning my place on Earth, in the food chain and actions as a whole. My sister is quiet and continues to feel disbelief about what just happened to us. Was that a Master Angler? Not sure. Looked like a turtle.

I take some time away from the dock to try to let go of what happened and continue hoping the turtle is happily swimming back into a wave, yelling “Righteous! Righteous!” just like on Finding Nemo. Later on that day, my dad manages to catch ANOTHER turtle. I was not on the dock at the time, luckily, as I would probably panic even more than I did the first time. I believe it was my sister, dad and brother-in-law and, shockingly, the team of medical professionals is able to free the turtle within minutes. I’m actually angry when I hear the story. Oh, you had no problem saving the turtle? Thanks for the help earlier today Dr. Useless. FML. You will pay for my therapy bills.

Traumatized but still Human

Needless to say, it was a tough experience. I think that for most sane people, watching anything suffer is painful. The turtle was equally as important to save as any other living creature. I still remember the one time I saw a squirrel running back and forth on the street, desperately looking for a way out. I was so sad and talked about that squirrel for an abnormal amount of time. Post squirrel incident, I had a minor breakdown at my Yoga Teacher Training after watching a beetle get killed unnecessarily. I think we all have to find a balance because in reality, life comes and goes. Even within our own bodies, a cycle is happening that causes cells to die. Plus, Animal Planet is pretty real. A little too real.

If I cannot save a life (human or other), I have to accept that I did what I could. That lesson has been a part of my journey and not one I have mastered. I knew this was not intentional harm however, I do wish things had been different. On the other hand, I ask myself why I let the suffering of the turtle cause me emotional suffering, even with the rationality to know that I did what I could.

Turtle Aftermath

I may fish again if the time is right and after I have spoken at length with a psychologist about this. I plan to book a session with my sister shortly, so we can ruminate about WTF happened to us. What I can say now is that I am grateful to be a human being that has the capacity to desperately want to reduce suffering of any sentient being. This, of course, is a balancing act for all humans. Reduce harm, reduce suffering; in our inner and outer world. Perhaps the most fundamental truth in the experience was our reaction to seeing a turtle on the fishing line. Immediate action to help.

What would the world be like if we could all take immediate action to help? I could help more; I admit that. There is no end to how much we can try to help. We can’t help everyone but maybe we can help a few. Animal, human or other. We’re all in this together.

Have you ever had a morally challenging fishing experience?

Is it normal to catch turtles or what? Asking for a friend.