hooligans

Hooligan: A small ( approximately 7 inch ) slimy fish that swims from the bay, up the Nooksack River, to span. Every year on my dad’s birthday. And we eat it. And it’s delicious.
Dad: A large (approximately 6 foot) tall, great man who you can find on the Nooksack River on his birthday, fishing for Hooligans.
Emmett: A medium (approximately 3 foot) tall, sweet boy who fell in love with the one and only Hooligan we caught on our fishing trip.
So we went fishing, two times. Once my parents came along. No luck. Once we decided to voyage out on our own. Minimal luck. Like, we caught one hooligan.
Needless to say, both attempts were on beautiful days/nights and we all enjoyed some good chilly NW fresh air!
On the first attempt we walked the trail by flashlight. That was fun and exciting and a bit nerve racking as a parent.
On the second attempt we had daylight on our side, but not Braxton. He was at a friends and our decision to go was sporadic so he didn’t get to come. Next time!
Jeff held that big, heavy, net in that flowing water for what seemed like forever and we got one fish out of the deal. Once Emmett was introduced to the hooligan, whom he later named, Hooligan, there was no turning back. He carried that little fish. Sang to it, made faces at it, talked to it… and all the while the poor young lad actually thought that fish was alive and listening. Ha. So funny.
Adelle entertained herself by walking along the riverbank all the way telling me, “mom, really, I am not trying to fall in!” Finally I convinced her to climb the trees to see if she had a better view of the fish. It worked at getting her off the bank.
That night we fried that baby, Hooligan, up and ate him. All 4 of us, except for Emmett. He didn’t want to eat his friend Hooligan but he was okay that we did. He was delicious!
Hooligan fishing is a long time tradition in my family. My Grandpa Froberg would go with my dad (and probably Grandma too). My dad still always goes when they are running. He used to take whoever wanted to go with him. That wasn’t usually me! I vaguely remember going one time and I was really young. That was enough fun for me. This may surprise you but I am not so much a tom boy, lol. I do however have tons of pictures of me as a kid, fishing. My brothers usually tagged along with my dad. One time one of my brothers actually fell in the river! I remember them coming home and this particular brother telling us that he saw sharks when he was under water. Talk about a fish tale! There are no sharks in the river! Since my brothers have been gone Jeff has gone with my dad and taken Braxton.
My fondest memory of Hooligans involves me coming home late one night after breaking up with a boyfriend only to see my dad standing at the kitchen sink, cleaning hooligans. He was apparently just the sounding board I needed and I remember joining him in his bloody effort and crying about how over my life was.
I decided I like fishing for hooligans. Everyone along the river was so friendly. “How many you got?” laughter “That’s not going to feed all of you.” laughter “any luck?” more chuckles and laughter. Everyone just outside having a gay old time.
We will definitely carry on this tradition.
You can see what they are here.