On a recent fly fishing trip to the Baja of California I observed an event meaningless to some in the big scheme of the world, yet spoke volumes to me. On a glorious morning my husband and I were bobbing around on the indigo Sea of Cortez in a small, white open fishing boat with our Mexican captain Jose. The warm salt tinged air stirred the Doritos bag into a little dance in the bottom of the boat. Great whacking splashes of leaping manta rays (always behind your back), distant breaking waves and the cries of sea birds were the only other sounds in the world next to the methodical singing of the fly line back and forth, back and forth.






The world was completely at peace for a moment. The spell broke with the squeal of my reel “Got one!” The boys grinned as I brought the 4 foot needlefish to the boat. The captain’s job is to remove the fly, possibly pose for a photo and throw the fish back for another day. Normally I would take care of this myself, however, a needlefish is aptly named for his alligator-like snout full of teeth. I stood quietly by as Jose removed the hook with his thick, darkly tanned hands. In one swift practiced motion he placed his other hand around the long, skinny fish and quietly cracked the spine in two… dropping it overboard. As the poor contorted thing spiraled away from me a few shiny scales remained near the surface reflecting the warm life giving sun. Revolted, tears welling in my eyes as I stared at him – “what, why?” I stammered, “please do not kill my fish Jose!” It was at this moment the disparity of our two worlds made me feel almost ridiculous. Americans who know little hardship flying into Jose’s impoverished world to scatter a few dollars. His hard black eyes reflected chagrin only for a split second as he gestured to a long, dark scar on his arm. “Needlefish” he spat. As he rested his hand back on the gunnel I noticed the inordinately long fingernail on his pinky. I considered his life. As a captain, he is likely considered lucky; boat, money, party hard at night, take the “gringos” out during the day. Life is here is basic; eye for an eye, put up with the clients, it pays the bills. Jose is a big fish in a small pond and he wants to keep it that way. He can laugh about me later with the boys. For today I keep a wary eye on him to make sure each needlefish swims away instead of floating into the dark."