Ava is a native woman I met in Alaska. We bonded over birds while sitting on her front porch. She kept the feeders full. She helped me see the birds I wanted to see there, but we went way beyond that and exchanged stories for hours over several visits.
One day we were sitting on her porch talking, and she was headed off to fish for lake trout that afternoon. I described how all the fishing Judy and I had done for the last twenty years had been fly fishing, catch and release, on gold medal waters, with barbless hooks. Maybe I meant to impress her? Silence ensued until she looked at me with great disdain and said: “I don’t play with my food.”
I take that to mean she wasn’t impressed.