My First Fishing Trip

There were three of us little ones - my brother, my sister, and myself - and we heard about this crazy thing called ‘fishing’.

So one afternoon (after I’m sure much nattering and pestering) my dad took us fishing. He dropped us in rubber boots and handed us each a fishing rod. Excited, we hoped into the Orange Ford and sped off down the gravel road. We drove through a field and stopped at this tiny little creek(actually ‘creek’ is a stretch, it really was more of a low-spot that had gathered some rainwater). Unbeknown to us, there were no fish there.

But dad was beknown…he knew that not a single fish could possibly exist in that puddle. He didn't tell us though, so we spent all day fishing and fishing! Dad taught us to cast and then he seemed the "appropriate-amount" of flustered by the fact that we were doing so well but we weren’t catching anything! When we went home and told mom, she was very surprized too that we didn't catch any fish but thank goodness she had already thought of a back-up plan for supper that night!

But you know, even though we never caught one, boy did we have stories about all the bites and tugs and all the times we 'almost' caught a fish in that creek that afternoon!

But they were stealth, those fish. They got away. To big for us to wrestle down i supposed…even dad couldn’t pull them up…if we had a fighter on the end that was close to pulling us in, we’d give him the rod to reel the monster in - and every time he got the hook unsnagged from the tree root we had it caught in and brought the line up - to our amazement - the hook would be fish-less!

“Maybe if you were quieter you wouldn’t have scared it away,” Dad would say.

Ya Dad...maybe.

happy friday!

Q: What did one math book say to the other?

A: Man I got a lot of problems!