The joys of fishing

“Ah yes, take a child fishing and throw the little rascal in.”

—W. C. Fields

The peace and quiet of our cabin was shattered recently by the arrival of the three bandits from Texas. The three little rascals had three things on their minds. They wanted to go canoeing and fishing with Grandpa, check out the precious items at one of Gordon Kingzinger’s auctions and go to the Wayne County Fair. As I write this they are preparing to achieve their final objective. I doubt there will be enough room in our cars to lug all the items home that they bought at the auction. We may have to turn to UPS for some of these treasures.

On our first fishing foray, I took Matt Brown, the 11-year-old, on a canoe trip from Tower Road down to the Callicoon access. We tried popping bugs tied from deer hair and a few of Jack Gartsides’s soft hackle streamers in several colors. About 200 yards above the bridge, a fish tried to eat an orange and white streamer, but after three or four seconds the hook lost its hold.

Our annual pilgrimage to Lower Woods Pond proved to be more successful. Mike Brown, the eight-year-old, was delighted to bring seven sunfish of varying sizes along with one largemouth bass. The fish could not resist either a roan antelope beetle or a green weenie tied with chartreuse chenille. In addition to the fish caught, there were several Mike missed due to excessive slack in the fly line. After a number of misses, he gradually learned how to control the amount of slack line on the water. Once he gained better control over the fly line, he missed very few strikes. It was a lovely day to drift along silently in the canoe, immersed in the beauty of this pond while watching the gleeful expression on Mike’s face at each small triumph.

The stillness ended with the arrival of a dozen or more bass boats on trailers parking at the launch site. It seemed there was to be a bass fishing contest held on the pond that evening. I have never been able to understand why anyone would want to turn a quiet, contemplative sport such as fishing into a competitive game. The last thing I want to intrude on the pleasure I derive from fishing is the desire to beat some other fisher’s results. Nothing is more boring than reading about the results of such competition. Joe Six Pack won the Lake Mud Hole tourney with a four-pound hawg while poor old Jack Bar Stool only landed a three-pound bass. How memorable, how exciting, what drama—give me a break, the obits are more interesting.

Mike Brown was bursting with pride when we returned to the launch area. He could hardly contain himself as he described his fishing prowess. Next into the canoe was little sister, five-year-old Meredith Brown. She loves to emulate her older brothers. Her attitude is best summed up in the words from a song from the show, “Annie Get Your Gun,” “Anything you can do I can do better.” Grandpa’s dilemma was how to provide a little five-year-old girl with a chance to hook a fish on a fly. The only solution I could think of was to troll a green weenie behind the canoe and hope for the best. We proceeded along the pond shore for some 50 yards when she suddenly squealed, “I’ve got one.” Sure enough, the tip of the rod was vibrating. With a look of grim determination, she cranked the fly line in. Miracle of miracles, my little canoe pal hooked and landed a sunfish the size of her hand. Grandpa quickly took two pictures of this momentous event. Meredith Ann had not only caught her very first ever fish, but she had taken it on a fly. One of the great pleasures of fishing is to be able to recall the large smile that a small fish can put on a child’s face.

If you are interested in better flows on the branches and main stem of the Delaware, do not miss the Days on the Delaware, which will be put on by the Delaware River Foundation on August 11 and 12. These programs will begin at 10:00 a.m. and are not to be missed. For further information or directions, visit delawareriverfoundation.org or call 607/637-3220. See you there.