It takes the better part of an hour for Frank to finally catch something, and by that time the sun has reached its zenith, creating a heavy humid and little shade. Frank had of course managed to fine the one spot that had a modicum of relief, provided by an old oak tree that seemed to tower above the forest line. The catfish that Frank finally caught was a silver skinned and slimy sucker, plump and about the length of Frank's upper arm. It swished and flipped and fought hard once Frank wrestled it out of the water, but of course the catfish finally lost the fight. It would probably fry up nicely.

(OOC: The group still goes back to the camp for lunch?)