LAREDO, Texas — The fish dart along the Rio Grande, spending a few seconds in one country, a minute or two in the other. It’s silly to think they would have a passport.

Where would they keep it?

Above the water, on the north bank of the river, Hector Rodriguez casts his line. Sundown is approaching and at least the heat, if not the humidity, starts to give way.

Rodriguez, his father and younger brother often come to Los Tres Laredos Park to fish. It’s a popular spot, he says, but on this Monday afternoon only his family is here with a rod and reel. At least on this side of the border.

About 200 feet across the water, a man and a woman stand beside their car. He casts his line while she holds a young boy, wearing only a diaper, in her arms. An older boy and girl run along the water until the woman yells at them to stay close.

Faint music can be heard, mixed in with the faraway sounds of the city.

There is no fence here and a mention of Donald Trump is greeted with head shakes.

The park, bracketed by a trestle bridge where trains cross the border and another bridge where cars and pedestrians do the same, is named for the three Laredos, which at first seems like one too many.

The third is in Spain, where another Parque de los Tres Laredos reminds people there of its sister cities across the Atlantic.

As twilight makes the scene idyllic, there is still no missing the Border Patrol vehicle atop a small hill, or the one further down the street, or the Laredo police unit parked across the way, or the state trooper black and white that just drove by.

Still, the fish are biting, a breeze is blowing and nobody wants to talk about a wall.