Morningside Cuesta sky watcher

She chuckled as Bjorn deftly produced a stick. Gently teasing as he discarded it, Too bad we aren't beavers. That would have made a lovely snack.

Her eyes wandered to the sky. Pastel hues of red and orange lingered in the clouds with the recent daybreak, but the sun continued to climb. Perhaps if they waited long enough Bjorn would be able to demonstrate the flashing scales. Was it easy to discern it from the rippling water or a reflection off the ice?

Vale clicked her tongue and focused on the water. It could be seen moving below in the clear sections of the ice. Bubbling softly under the ice sheets before babbling freely in the hole Bjorn made.

It is a test of patience. And a test of faith in hoping that a fish would come along. But it wasn't much different than other forms of hunting, wasn't it? The difference was staying still or being in motion.

Are there types of fish you particularly like over others? Or kinds you shouldn't eat?