A column from 2023 mentioned my having “A Round Tuit” years ago. I also confessed a present-day need for that long-lost token. Procrastination often sidetracks my good intentions. 

Jim Hamrick, son of the late columnist Harry Hamrick, has encouraged me in my writing many times. After reading that column Jim sent me a round Tuit, plus its lesser-known cousin, the stick Tuit.  

Both novelty items are on my desk to remind me of what needs attention. That doesn’t always translate into action, but at least it prods my awareness. When our family was on a June vacation, the stick Tuit came to mind as I noticed some good examples.

St. George Island is a lovely and uncrowded Florida beach. Dolphins passed by close to shore almost every day. That’s much better than having them do tricks in small pools, but that’s a topic for later, maybe.

What reminded me of the Tuits were the various seabirds. Sandpipers busily trot along the shore, constantly pecking for small crabs and such. Others, like seagulls, are mostly in the air, searching and diving, looking for fish in the shallows. A red-billed tern passed by a few times gliding just above the water, making quick dips and slight gulps while barely slowing its pace. 

We had a special treat on two consecutive days. A bald eagle swooped down and both times retrieved a nice-size fish with its talons. The big bird circled a bit, perhaps tightening his grip or checking his GPS, then flew toward the bay side of the island to its nest.

Pelicans are among the most amazing fishers. From high above the water, often far from shore, they fold their wings and make diving plunges straight down. It’s hard to tell when they succeed, but I’ve read that it’s much of the time. Over and over they flap their wings to rise from the ocean, search for fish, then dive again.       

 On that same stretch of beach I watched an eleven-year-old boy who fished as relentlessly as the seabirds. He was surf fishing in conditions much windier than normal. The weather was challenging and the fish scarce, but the young boy was undeterred. He would wade out chest deep to cast his baits then work three reels in holders he’d driven into the sand.

Each morning the boy pulled his loaded fishing cart to the water’s edge. Through fifty yards of sand he tugged the heavy load. He’d fish most of the day, except for swimming and food breaks, then pack up his gear just before nightfall and pull the cart back to the house.

Two dog sharks, about three feet long, were his most exciting catches. An occasional crab would ride the bait in. He caught a few catfish, along with a flounder, ladyfish, whiting, and American croaker. For a week of fishing it wasn’t much to show, but every day he optimistically followed that routine.

I’m proud of that kid. He never complained or quit trying, not even as his grandfather lazily dozed in a hammock on the porch. Whatever worthwhile he undertakes in life, I trust he’ll keep that same attitude. Someone much wiser than me said, “Cast your bread on the water and it won’t return void.” That’s good advice for a lot of things. 

And if that young fellow ever needs a reminder, he can have the wooden Tuits on his grandfather’s desk.