Was with Mayor Daley's Fish`N Kids Fishing Instructor Carl Vizzone; we just call them Fish`N Guys for short. We had gone to Keystone hatcheries in Richmond, Il to purchase 180, 3 - 5-inch bluegill for the Friends of the Chicago River. They wished to have some live bluegill to release - by hand, not net - into the Chicago River for the opening of their Michigan and Wacker Avenues Bridge Tender Building Museum.

It seems as if adults just get tickled pink - or whatever color they may turn when tickled - at putting live, squirming, jumping fish into their hands and then releasing them into the water. There seems to be a rather strong and ancient tactile association we have with our fish friends.

Many people - on lunch break, doing the touristy thing, or just wandering around while shopping downtown - saw us and came down to try their hand. People giggled, laughed out loud, screamed and jumped. By people, I mean 50-somethings and up, not little kids. Carl and I would put a fish or two in their cupped hands, close them gently around the fish and we'd say, "Give it a name and out it goes."

There were lot's of fish named after former wives, husbands and bosses, as well as for current boy and girlfriends, and for children. Lucifer was the most original and unusual. If you catch a "demon of a bluegill" on the Chicago River, you'll know why and how.

It was surprising how many people's hearts were racing. They were literally thumping in their chests. I could feel the blood pumping when I touched a pressure point. They were breathing to the point of hyper-ventilating. I felt it wise to hold each person's shoulders a bit as they bent over the river's edge - it's a long drop down to the water at Michigan and Wacker - just in case they got woozy and threatened to do a Greg Gouganis triple twist off the 3-meter platform.

But all of that wasn't my point. It was actually about fishing. Prior to the Invasion of the Fish Releasers, Carl and I fished to drum up some interest from the throngs passing by overhead on the Michigan Avenue brdige. For so few City folk to actually have any experience fishing, it is uncanny the crowds that will stop and watch and cheer when you hook a good sized fish. Carl and I each got two "nice" carp; 7 to 10 pounds or so. Nothing amazingly large.

But, those were enough to get the public's enthusiasm up. Talk about pressure - I've got a big fish on a light rod andjig and a crowd. Only thing missing are the klieg lights. People come right up behind you and start asking questions. "Can you eat it? What is it? Wow, that's big. Are they all that big? Do they get bigger? What did you catch it on?" When we answer "maggots" that usually tempers the question-asking for a moment. Finally we get the fish in. Then people always wish to touch them; sorta', kinda', a little bit. It usually starts with the "one-fingered" quick-touch, followed by two fingers, then four.

They are amazed they are smooth, not rough, and how mild fish smell when the are fresh and alive. When we throw the fish back, people cheer. Perhaps touching a fish builds some kind of bond between us.

In addition, we got largemouth, panfish, crappie - no gobe's that day. The Chicago River is getting wonderful, ain't it?

After catching so many fish over the years, releasing them becomes part of the mechanism of catching them. Oh, nice, plop it goes back in the water.

Then there's the fish, especially smallies, that stare you down. Those I'll hold up and examine, see if that bright red eye will follow what I'm doing. They don't look at your hands or chest or things flopping around near them as you hold them. They continue to look you right in the eye.

Then I laugh, like a fish knows what a laugh is and plop they go, back in the water.