We prepared dinner the old fashioned way last night–we hunted and gathered. Or was it caught and cleaned? However you say it, we saw our food swimming in the morning, then cooked on our dinner plates in the evening.

We found a place called Rainbow Trout Farm a few miles south of Flagstaff. It’s a great business idea–they stock a pond full of rainbow trout and rent out poles, nets, buckets, and bait for $1.00. Then you fish away and are virtually guaranteed to catch something. You pay for what you catch, and they clean the fish and put it on ice. They also have several grills and picnic tables around if you want to cook and eat your fish right there.

The fishing poles were at least three times the kids’ height.

Jeremy was the first one to catch a trout. I think it took him all of 3 minutes.

Peter caught two by the time we were finished, and his fish were by far the largest.

Derek seemed to have the touch, as almost every time he put his pole in the water, he made a catch. Meanwhile, I was seeing dollar signs add up since throwing your catch back in the water is prohibited.

Jake was a natural too–must be due to all those hours fishing in the pond at home.

Every time the boys pulled out a fish, I was happy I had Ruthie duty that day. After prying the hook out of the mouth, Jim had to wrestle each slippery trout into our bucket. Yikes.

When all was said and done, the kids caught eight fish. After the little buggers were cleaned, we had them packed on ice and put in a cooler. The fish, that is, not the kids.

This is the part that made me very very thankful for grocery stores and their arrays of boneless, skinless eyeball-less fish fillets. It must have taken Jim and me over an hour to debone and de-skin those eight fish. But it was worth it for the family experience. From pond to table in one day; dinner doesn’t get much fresher than that. We threw in some onions, butter and limes before wrapping them in foil and throwing them on the grill.

No one seemed bothered by the fact that we were eating the same fish that were swimming in the pond earlier that day. Except Peter. You see, the boys and I watched the whole cleaning process at the farm, and the fisherman was having some fun with his audience. I won’t go into detail here, but let me just say he was going for major shock value.

As we sat for dinner, Peter was hesitant to dig in. I asked him why, and he just recounted the bloody water in the bucket and the fish being cut open. It didn’t take him long to get over it, though, when he knew that s’mores were on the menu for dessert.

While Jim and I prepared dinner, this sensitive little guy took care of Ruthie. The pictures speak for themselves.

They’ve been bonding this week.