There was a beautiful large mouthed bass happily swimming in his lake one day when he was startled by a brilliant, chrome plated lure. The lure glittered as the sun reflected the sparkling light through the clear water. Over and over, the sun's rays reflected off the dimpled, twirling blade. In an instant, the magnificent bass darted after the spinner, his heart dancing with joy. Like a flash, he struck the lure with force and intensity. Such bliss! But something was wrong. There was no taste, no squirming fight to escape, just an odd, unknown feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the feeling began to hurt. Then there was real pain. He tried to release his catch, but couldn't. He spun, and dashed, and even broke the water to free himself, but there was no use, his efforts were all in vain. The pain grew, and then he felt the pressure of the line in his throat as it was slowly pulling him through the water. He fought the pulling with all of his might. With each new attempt to be free, the hooks in his stomach cut deeper into his soft and fragile tissue. He became weaker, and then too weak to fight. As he was pulled into the boat, the boy said, "Dad, unhook him so we can throw him back." His dad shook his head and said, "I'm sorry Son, he's gut-hooked. If I yank the hook out, he'll die. If I throw him back in, he'll die, but it will be a slow, agonizing death."
After a few moments of quiet reflection, the father said to his son, "Let's catch a few more. Mom can fry 'em up for supper tonight."
