Once there was an 11-year-old boy who went fishing with his father in the middle of a New Hampshire lake. On the day before bass   season opened, they were fishing early in the evening, catching other fish with worms. Then the boy tied on a small silver lure   and put it into the lake. Suddenly he felt that something very big pulling on the lure. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully brought the fish beside the bank. Finally he lifted the tired fish from the water. It was the largest one he had ever seen, but it was a bass. The boy and his father looked at the big fish. The father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 p.m.--two hours before the season opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. "You'll have to put it back, son," he said. "Dad!" cried the boy. "There will be other fish," said his father. "Not as big as this one," cried the boy. He looked around the lake. No other fishermen or boats were in sight in the moonlight. He looked again at his father. Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he had caught the fish, the boy could tell from his father's voice that the decision couldn't be changed. He threw the huge bass into the black water. The big fish disappeared. The boy thought that he would never again see such a big fish. That was 34 years ago. Today the boy is a successful architect in New York City. He often takes his own son and daughters to fish at the same place. And he was right. He has never again caught such a large fish as the one he got that night long ago. But he does see that same fish ... again and again ... every time he has an ethical   decision to make. For, as his father had taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult. How did the boy feel when the huge bass was thrown into the water?
Excited. Embarrassed. Disappointed. Annoyed.