There’s a big fish in our pond. We’ll call him “the West Lincoln Leviathan.” The Leviathan in our backyard was hidden under reflections of pines until my fiancé, Jacob, interrupted the smooth mirror with an aluminum boat. After several hours of catching bass and bream, Jacob caught him – the West Lincoln Leviathan. He caught him… and he got away. After the eight to ten pound bass broke his line, Jacob desperately tried to capture it and grabbed the fish by the mouth, but with one flip of his tail, he was gone.

Jacob was not happy. My sister witnessed my sweet, calm fiancé hitting the water with a paddle. I came outside just after the great escape and my red-faced man, heart pounding, told me his tragic tale. About ten times. Periodically, throughout the rest of the evening, Jacob would shake his head and I knew the story was coming again. He was disappointed but he said I would probably be happy because we would not have a bass hanging in our future living room. (I’ve already limited him to one deer mount.)

After Daddy caught wind of the story, the hunt was on. He and my sister, Kallie, have been scouring the waters with illusive lines, trying to snatch the Leviathan. Jacob works on an oilrig in North Dakota, so he’s eager to get back home to hook the fish first.

There have been sightings of both Daddy and Jacob at Bass Pro Shop, purchasing various contraptions to lure the great fish. Kallie has been seen frantically digging in the dirt for worms. The Leviathan has cast a spell on these people. I was cleaning out my car last week and found a lure in my car I had won a while back at a wild game supper. I don’t fish much, so I never used it. I laid it on the dining room table and it was soon snatched up like gold by the Leviathan hunters. They are serious.

But the great fish knows they’re out there. He’s hiding, waiting to tease them with a nibble.

We had fresh fried fish from the pond for the first time in a long time the other night, so I’m not complaining about the frantic hunt at my house. I just watch them out their with their fancy baits and quiet casts and enjoy my crispy fish.

I’m not the fisherman in the family. Last time I fished in our pond, I hooked Kallie in the foot. No one has wanted to fish with me since. Somehow, the line ends up behind me in the forest instead of in front of me in the water. It’s OK though. Kallie, or Elly May, as I like to call her, will dig in the dirt for bait, catch the fish and clean them. After that, I don’t mind cooking and eating them.

My family loves to eat fish, too. You can’t possible be southern if you don’t. But they have one particular fish on their minds. Even Mama was fishing a few nights ago. The West Lincoln Leviathan continues to elude everyone.

Maybe I’ll pick up a pole tonight and stick a piece of bread on the hook, and hook something that’s not human.

Lifestyles Editor Jessica Boyd can be reached at The Daily Leader at 601-833-6961 ext. 134, by email at jessica.boyd@dailyleader.com or you can write to her at P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS 39602.