“I have a pretty good story for you. When I was a teenager, my family were at a formal function near Lake Chatcollet, Idaho. I don’t even remember what the occasion was. All I know is that I was dressed to the nines in my good shoes and pants, dress shirt and all. My brother, my father and I were walking onto the dock located at the lake. They were a little ways ahead of me. I was looking at the grasshoppers, not paying all that much attention to anything else.

I followed my brother and father onto the dock, glancing aimlessly out across the lake and its present sunshine. My gaze swiveled up and around and back down and then I probably did a double take. Or at least that’s how I remember it.

It was a crappie. Now, that’s nothing all that spectacular. Come to think of it, I don’t recall there being anything all that special about it. It was just a crappie. But what it was doing was remarkable... well, at least to me.

That damn crappie was swimming slowly just under the surface of the water, parallel to the dock. It just sort of sidled on by, not paying any attention to the humans walking on the creaky old dock.

I was transfixed.

I was still walking. And then I was in the water.

You see, the thing is that when you’re idly walking and you focus all of your attention on one specific thing to the exclusion of everything else (hyperfocusing); if your eyes are locked on that thing... well, you might end up scaring the crap out of a crappie.

My dad and my brother were startled to hear a gigantic ‘sploosh’ and turned to watch me flail ridiculously as I unsuccessfully try to climb back up on the dock with my slick dress shoes. Brian almost fell off the dock himself, he was laughing so hard.

I wonder what the last thing was that went through that crappie’s head before he took off for safer waters.”