Oh fishy, fishy, fishy, fish ... /Upstream

"Did you get the fish?" the man of the Village asked. "Fish?" I said, "where's the fish?" "It's trying to swim up", the man said. "Maybe it thinks it's a salmon," I said. The man looked at me. I smiled. "It's a trout of some sort", he said. I smiled again. Nodded, like I know my fishies.
"We're opening the sluice wider" he said, "the pond is about to flood over," I looked, and sure enough, the water was almost level with the path I was standing on. "I guess that means more trout will flow into the lake?" I asked. "Could very well be", he said. All three of them grabbed hold of the sluice handles. (I have no idea what to call 'm so handles it is.)
There was some display of muscles, grunting, you know, things guys do when they want you to think they are doing hard labour. I didn't fall for it, because they mostly hung over the railing looking at the water. Trying to spot the fish with the mishap of ending up in Maple Lake, while having unfinished business in Ismons Pond.
As was I.

I've been singing Uptownstream Girl since I came home.

And because I shouldn't apologize for photos that aren't great, I won't say anything. Ho hum.