Fish Stories

Me when I was about 16, still fishing strong in my

favorite fishing outfit - bandana in hair, long-sleeved thermal, and jeans

1.  Indian Reservation by Paul Revere & The Raiders
2.  It's Too Late by Carole King
3.  Amos Moses by Jerry Reed
4.  Temptation Eyes by The Grass Roots
5.  Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters
6.  Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver
7.  Signs by The Five Man Electrical Band
8.  Help Me Make It Through the Night by Sammi Smith
9.  Lonely Days by The Bee Gees
10.  Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again by The Fortunes
11.  It Don't Come Easy by Ringo Starr
12.  Riders On the Storm by The Doors

Would it surprise you to know that, when I was very young, I dreamed of being able to go fishing?  As a little girl I would watch my dad, and then my big brothers, get all geared up for the first day of fishing season. The getting of the licenses, the digging for worms and purchasing of other bait like salmon eggs - it all seemed so exciting. They'd talk about which streams would be the best and which ones had been stocked. I can't remember how old I was when I started pestering them to let me come. I would see the look of dismay on my brother's faces as they feared that my dad would cave in and let me come along. But he didn't. Until one year.  I don't remember the exact age - I'm guessing it was right around 11 or 12 because I know we were living on Keenan Street at the time - but when I begged he actually seemed to stop and consider it! My hopes soared! I think he thought he was being very clever when he finally made his response - after all, I WAS a prissy sort.  But he didn't realize just how badly I wanted to go. So when he said, "Sure, you can go, but you have to bait your own hook and clean your own fish and undo your own tangles" and I enthusiastically replied, "OK!! Just show me how and I will do it!," I think he was truly surprised!  Being a parent now, I realize what processed through his mind at that moment. First off was probably - "Dang!"  Then came the resolve that he had made an offer that he hadn't expected to be taken, but now that it was, this year was going to be more of a teaching year for him than an actual fishing one. At least the first day of fishing season, anyway.

 I was so excited as he, and my brothers, filled me in on the rules. I already knew the rules, though. I had sat around that dinner table too many times and listened to the stories they would tell. I knew to be quiet, especially in areas where the stream pooled out and hit a quiet spot. I knew that you don't go stomping through the water. I knew that you keep your pole tip forward and angled down a bit as you walked through the trees so as to not get it caught in the branches overhead. I knew to watch your line as it drifted down so as to not cross someone else's line and you certainly don't cast across another person's line! I knew that fish were hungrier in the early morning and they also ate well after it rained and the water might be muddied a bit. I knew that fish like to hide under the tree roots where the stream cuts back under and forms a little deeper pool. I knew to leave a bit of worm dangling off the hook because the fish like to see the worm wiggle - it let them know that it was alive.

My brother, Ed, helped me dig for worms and showed me how to get the night crawlers to come up out of the ground. There was the usual flooding with the garden hose technique, but he had come up with some sort of secret mustard sauce that he would pour down into the holes and those night crawlers would come right up out of their holes. We had our flashlights handy and I got pretty good at grabbing those slippery little things and adding them to our worm pail full of dirt. Ed also showed me a few different ways to thread the worms on to my hook so that when the fish took the bait, the worm would slide up on the hook, and maybe you could get more uses from that worm than just that one bite.   He taught me how important it was to make sure the hook was hidden because fish were pretty smart.  Ed and dad both taught me how to cast in our back yard.

That first day came and I was so excited to be up super early with the guys. They had already talked and decided who would go where. We just happened to live where there were tons of streams so choices were plenty. Dad had scouted out a spot that he thought would be perfect for me. It was a spot where the water dammed up a bit and there was a tree with an exposed root system at the edge of the water. He knew that there was tons of what he called "crappies" or "sun daze" in there. I guess that dad decided that if I was so excited to try that I'd be willing to play with worms and cut the guts out of the fish, then he wanted me to have a good time. And what "hooks" a kid on fishing quicker than actually catching a fish? You don't care how big it is, you just want to have that feeling of pulling something in! To this day, that tug on the end of the line excites me!

He watched me bait my hook, then pointed out the water flow and instructed me to cast upstream just a bit and then let my line drift down, making sure the bait sailed past that tree trunk - but slowly reeling in at the same time. Too much line would make me get a snag. So I did as he asked and got a nibble that very first time! My eyes went huge! He explained about the patience part. You just have to keep doing it and eventually they'll bite hard! He was right! It didn't take too many casts and I was reeling in those crappies! I kept the ones that were big enough and released those that weren't. When he saw I had the hang of it, he left me there to go to another spot nearby where he could fish. I kept pulling those fish in all day! When it slowed down I learned the beauty of sitting on a fish bank, line dropped, just waiting for that bite, but loving the absolute serenity of it all. I instinctively learned how to lean my pole against my knee, prop it up on a branch, and lay back and rest, knowing I would be able to feel any tug on that line. I have always been a talker - talk, talk talk, all day long - couldn't shut me up. This was a concern with my dad and brothers. They warned me over and over again about how I wasn't going to be able to talk! Fishing required quiet! I learned how to be still by learning to fish. It's probably one of the few times where I am rendered speechless! I found I LIKED the pondering! I LIKED the quiet!

At the end of the day, Dad showed me how to gut the first one and I eagerly went to work on the rest! It wasn't so bad. I didn't particularly like how the scales would stick to everything but, oh well! We returned home with our catch and mom cooked them up for dinner!

I was so proud to be able to be in on the sharing of the stories! They were all laughing about how I was just zinging them in, one right after the other. One of the boys tried to tease me about how small they were but it didn't faze me. You could tell which ones were mine on the platter - too small to even be boned. You had to just eat around the bones. But they were mine! And I was one of the guys that day!

I started scouting the creeks right around our house and found spots that I knew would be good fishing. It was a new way to escape. I'd get my chores done, grab my pole and bait and head across the street and start following the creek to my holes, fishing until I had to get home to help with dinner. Oh, how I loved this release - this time to myself - this time of quiet thought and contemplation. I grew to have my love and appreciation of nature through fishing. I was SO blessed to have grown up in the area I did, where the lush forests and plentiful streams were readily available. I thank my dad for many things, but among the most treasured is allowing me to go fishing. I also can't think of it without realizing just how much my brother, Ed, did to prepare me so I could be successful.  It's amazing what blessings come to the forefront through pondering.  What gifts. What blessings.  And this ain't no fish story!