Dave was moving along the wharf, around the tuna boats like a hunter. Nothing like you’d imagine an old bait-soaking fisho.
Constantly on the move and “searching” for the fish with cast after cast. No lead, light weight line and a doughy concoction he’d mould onto a small, fine and super sharp hook.
The fish just weren’t playing today… not the big ones anyway. He pulled out throwback after throwback but remained unperturbed as he kept moving from boat to boat with his old dog in tow.
Three black cockatoos flew overhead.
Dave looked up, watched them fly by then turned to me and says, “rain’s coming.”
“What makes you say that, the clouds in the west?” I asked.
“Nah, the black cockatoos. When you see them like that, on the move, rain is on the way.” replied Dave.
I smiled in a way that must have looked like I was thinking… “bullshit.”
He looked at me and assured me rain was coming.
We chatted for a bit longer before parting ways.
The next morning, I rose to wet weather and consistent rain. I just know Dave would have been smiling to himself.
