A great fisherman is born every day. When my youngest son, Colt, was born, I knew he would love the water because his eyes were as blue as the ocean.
I remember our first conversations about the ocean. I had purchased a little box that had a mermaid painted on it with white, flowing hair, a seaweed and seashell diadem, the long, enchanted fish tail.
Wanting to share my enthusiasm for mermaids with my 5-year-old, I said, “Colt, isn’t this the most beautiful mermaid you’ve ever seen?”
Colt looked at me with concern and replied, “In a previous life, I didn’t like mermaids.”
I laughed, imagining Colt’s “other lifetime” as a famous pirate, a ship’s captain, or a fisherman.
Colt is 12, but in fishing years he is older: he benefits from the years of experience of his fishing buddies. From Colt’s perch on the pond banks of our backyard, he has developed an extensive “angling network,” like a waterway of friendship running from our yard to the lakes, rivers and even the ocean, the places where his friends fish.
I don’t have a boat, but my Uncle and cousin do, and they have spent hours fishing with my sons, taking them deep-sea fishing in my Uncle’s boat Stealin’ Home. Another friend, Jon, invited Colt to fish with him at his family’s farm, which has a river, and Colt hopes to catch his first trout.
Colt is learning that being a great angler isn’t about owning a own boat or having the latest fishing gear: the secret is practice. Practice is the prerequisite for greatness.
During the pandemic, our pond has been a godsend for my boys, like a sacred place where they hope one perfect cast will hook the “the big fish,” that mythical, elusive, scaly beast of legends, with rusted hooks around its mouth like scars of ancient victories.
One day while fishing in our pond Colt met our neighbor, Hayes. They talked across the water, Colt on the bank and Hayes in his kayak, and became friends. The first time Colt had to put new line on his reel, Hayes took time to teach Colt this new skill, and now Colt texts Hayes regularly about catches and advice on the best baits.
On good days when Colt catches something, he photographs the fish, and then he releases it back into the pond to be caught again another day. The pond fish are mostly large-mouth bass, crappy and blue gill. But as every angler knows, some days the fish aren’t biting. On those long days, Colt will say what Hayes has taught him: “If every time you fished you caught something, it would be called ‘catching’ not fishing.”
Our neighbor, Charlie, is another one of Colt’s fishing buddies. Colt and Charlie discuss the latest pond news — the arrival of the river otters; the hawks’ nest; the “cougar” prowling the neighborhood; the blue heron on the other side of the pond, affectionately named “Gargantuan” (because it’s the largest blue heron either has ever seen). The pond is busy, and fishing together helps people catch up on “the stories.”
Another one of Colt’s fishing friends, Dick, lives in Florida. Dick has published books on fly-fishing, and he makes his own flies. Colt and Dick text each other pictures of beautiful fish, and Dick mails Colt flies he has tied himself and books on fishing. One of the lessons Colt learned from Dick is “the more fish you catch, the more fish you want to catch.”
Colt’s passion for angling has been nurtured by many generous souls who have invested time to talk with him or to fish with him, like a water-web of kindred spirits helping the next generation. To a 12-year-old, Colt has won the fishing lottery, and I have realized that fishing “catches” not only fish, but also friends.
I’d still like to know what Colt has against mermaids.
Dr. Renee Love is an English professor at Lander University. Please write to her at crlove@lander.edu.
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