Wanting to return home from the Columbia River Gorge with some Chinook salmon a few weeks ago I ventured into a native Indian village to solicit a purchase. There was this man washing the fish cleaning station so generously provided by our government to make up for the pillage of their land and killing of their people during the shameful chapters of our nation's history. He asked me to wait while he went and check.
Eventually I found him at his trailer home and he has a cooler full of fish. I told him I just want a small one knowing the modest size of Tatyana's fridge. He reach into the cooler and pick the smallest among all rather large ones. It came in just under 8 lb as he weighted it. I was not too happy to see the wound in its body and point with my finger. The Indian man say it is nothing to worry about - just a war wound it earned as it fights its way up the mighty river. Sure enough the man was right, the wound was superficial and does not affect the taste of the fish. I would soon take the term "war wound" to heart...