Bits And Pieces

Hooked On Fishing

     Fishing has never been one of my favorite sports, but I married a guy who will get up at 4 a.m. broil in the sun and wear out his arm and wrist casting for bass and enjoy it.

     Not me!  I came from a long line of take-it-or-leave-it fishermen.  My idea of a perfect vacation has always been to sight-see in strange cities.  Eat at exotic places.  Sleep in elegant hotels.  Whirl in and out of clothes and gift shops and never lift a finger to make a bed or touch a dish.  But along through the years Pop had four compatriots who opted for camping and fishing vacations and I was outnumbered.  Even our only daughter was a real traitor, she preferred fishing to clothes shopping and presented me with the champion go-out-and-get-the-big-one fisherman for a son-in-law.  But otherwise he's great.

     Now I'll admit I had a choice on these vacations, to stay at home and bite my fingernails, sure the whole family would be wiped out by pneumonia as they fished in any weather, or I could go along and gripe a lot--but at least I'd be there to watch over wet feet, dry clothes and hot food.

     I was given a bamboo pole and a can of worms and told to enjoy myself.  Speaking of worms, how can a nice fat worm get so thin while I'm striving to stab it with a hook?

     One Christmas I received a spiffy, new road and special reel--now I could go after the big ones so the card said.  WHAT!  At 4 a.m.?  Not me.

     The rest of the cottage stirred at 4, stumbled through some coffee and doughnuts, dropped assorted tackle boxes on the cement floor, bundled into parkas and set forth for the big ones.  I snuggled back into the blankets for five more hours of sleep until they fell in at nine for breakfast.

     Well I did go out at 7 at night occasionally to even up the numbers in the boats, and learned to cast with a fair degree of accuracy bringing in a load of bass weeds everytime.

     Pop said if I ever hooked into a big one I'd be an avid fisherman.  I did finally have a bass close to a ton--well he felt like that--grab my hook and take off.  He cavorted all over and around the boat with Pop offering me play by play instructions.

     "Let him have some line.  Tire him out.  No, keep a tight line.  Hold your rod up--he'll get away."

     Well this bass took a leap just to look at me and laughingly slipped around the anchor rope, zoomed into the weeds--took a final leap, spit the hook at me and disappeared.

     I really didn't care for fishing anyway.

     But I'll admit I like Florida fishing.  Here you can go out most any time of the day providing the tide is something or other that is right, and I never know what I'll pull from the depths of the murky Peace River, the choice is endless.  If the fishing action is a bit slow you have always the pelicans or some other big birds to watch.

     Best of all though, I like the bait.  Shrimp is much easier to put on a hook and if I don't catch anything we can always eat the bait.

Written November, 1980 for PCV Newsletter