It was a beautiful day on the Kenai River. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and squirrels were exploring the bank above my head. My dad, my two brothers, and I were decked out in waders and standing in the gentle blue waters along the bank. My dad, an expert fisherman, gave me some advice. He said, "When you feel a tug on the line, pull up on your rod and reel." Then, he let me get started. I cast my line and prepared myself.

            About ten minutes later, I felt a familiar tug on my rod. My instincts kicked in and without really thinking, I pulled my rod up and reeled. The battle had begun. The salmon pulled, but I fought back. It tried to swim off, but I wouldn't let that happen. When it swam downstream, I reeled upstream. When it swam upstream, I pulled downstream. It was a battle between boy and beast, but I had the advantage-a sharp hook tangled in the mouth of a fresh, Alaskan salmon.

            I could feel the beast tiring, so I reeled with all my might. As it got closer to shore, Logan, my brother, prepared to net it. With one giant tug of my rod, I pulled the fish the final few feet to Logan's net. He trapped my prize in the webbing. I won the fight, but the battle wasn't over yet. The disgustingly messy part was next.

            Popping the gills is harden than it sounds, but a fisherman has to do it to drain the blood so it doesn't ruin the meat. I tried wrapping my finger around the surprisingly sharp gills to pry them apart, but my fingers were too short, and to be honest with you, it kind of hurt. My dad stepped in to help. With the gills popped, I hooked my prize on the stringer and continued to fish.

            While I only caught one more fish that day on the Kenai River, it was a great experience. I learned new skills, won a couple of battles, and caught one of the biggest fish of the day, which felt pretty good.