Fishing With the Boys

Fishing with My Boys

Even at his young age, this boy has the perfect form down!

 Last weekend Gunner turned three and Dylan turned the big eleven. Both boys wanted to go fishing for their birthday so we loaded up in my boat and hit the Fredericktown City Lake with my dad. This was the first time that Gunner would be able to ride in my boat and he was beyond excited. On the way out to the lake he had shouted, “I hope we fish for hours!”

The day was warm and there was very little wind so the weather was looking perfect for some fishing. Gunner stood next to me by the trolling motor and smiled at the lake then hugged my leg. “Dad, this is awesome.”

“I know, Son. I love it.”

“Me too.” He said as he made a beautiful cast into the lake. He was using a pole I had given him that was given to me when I was about his age. My dad had gave me the five foot white Zebco rod and reel combo that I had used for many years until I had finally upgraded to heavier gear. Now it was his. Though the original reel had long since worn out, the rod still held a great deal of ‘luck’ that we continually reminded Gunner of. Every time we would say that he would surely catch a fish because of his lucky fishing pole, he would smile ear to ear and cast even farther.

After making a few casts of my own I noticed that Dylan had yet to get a lure in the water. I turned to find him in a position that I had been in many times before but would never admit to anyone. His crank bait, both hooks, was securely buried in his flannel shirt while he worked feverishly to relieve himself from his trap.

“You okay back there?” I asked as I smiled at Dad.

“Yeah. Just got hung up.” Dylan muttered as he pulled his pocket knife from his tackle box.

                      After an epic battle with his flannel shirt, Dylan finally was able to fish!

I had fished a few minutes longer when I had heard Dylan shout a victory cry, letting us know that he had been freed from his bonds, and then I heard, “Crap! Are you kidding me?” I turned back around to find that he had in fact freed the crank bait from the flannel shirt but in his cheering his victory he had snagged the opposite side of his flannel. We all laughed and continued to fish as he dug out the treble hooks again. Eventually Dylan was able to fish and we trolled around the lake.

At one point Dylan tried to cast but ended up snagging me in the back with his crank bait. While I tried to untangle that mess, Gunner hooked me in the belly with his worm. “Sorry, Dad.” They both said. I had to laugh. It reminded me of my brother and I when we were kids hooking our dad in the boat. At least I didn’t have a hook in my head like we had done Dad so many times. I looked up just in time to see a dark shadow falling from the sky. I ducked just in time to dodge  another falling crank bait that my dad had just flipped off of a tree limb. Dad began laughing and said, “It’s like having three kids in the boat ain’t it?” We fished for a couple of hours and we got several bites but we never hooked into a fish.

Gunner, however, did catch several types of dinosaurs while we fished. He sloshed his pole around the side of the boat and would pull his pink worm up and shout, “Dad, look! I caught a dinosaur.”

“Good job, Son! See, your pole is lucky.” He would smile and slosh his pole in the water again and repeat the process. I turned my attention towards the lake so I could steer the boat along the bank when I heard an odd noise from Gunner. I believe it was the word, “Opps.”

I turned back to find the little monkey holding on to the side of the boat with his feet sticking straight up in the air, his right arm deep in the water up to his shoulder as he started shouting, “Noooooooo!” I quickly grabbed his ankle and lifted him up from the water while he dangled upside down and said, “Stinkbug? What are you doing?”

“My fishing pole, Dad! It fell in.” The hurt that spread across that little boy's eyes about broke my heart. He just stood there and stared at the ripples in the water while my dad and me tried to use our crank baits to snag the pole off the bottom about 8 feet down. We were not able to retrieve the pole and decided that we had had enough fun for one day and headed back to the truck. Dylan was excited that he had gotten to fish and had bragged that he did not get stuck in trees as much as me or my dad. Which was true; he had spent a good hour trying to get a crank bait out of his flannel so we had more time on the water! He was also happy that he actually had plenty of bass fishing gear to shuffle through like a pro angler that he had received for his birthday but Gunner was still down. It was not the way I wanted our fishing trip to end.

“You okay Stinkbug?”

“Yes, Dad. I miss my fishing pole.”

“It’s okay buddy. We will get you another one.”

“I really liked that one though.”

The whole ride home he patted my dad’s leg and just stared at the dashboard of the truck, every once in a while saying, “I really liked that fishing pole.”

The next day I took Gunner to Wal-Mart and we went straight to the fishing department. I pulled down each fishing pole and let him hold it until he finally held the one that was perfect for him. He held it in his hands like a knight finding a sword that was the perfect fit for him. It was a blue Shakespeare rod and reel and he immediately fell in love with it.

“Oh, Dad. Look at this one. Can I get it?”

“You like it?”

“I love it.”

“I guess we can get it then.”

He then started scanning the rest of the fishing poles and I said, “Son, you only get one pole.”

“No, you need a fishing pole, Dad.”

“Why do I need a pole, Son?” I asked.

“I lost your favorite pole that Paw Paw gave you. I need to get you a fishing pole.” I realized real quick that what was bothering my son wasn’t just that he had lost his favorite fishing pole but that he felt a pain that he had lost something of mine. It was true that I had had that little pole since I was his age; Dylan had used the pole until Gunner was born, and now it was gone. But it was just a fishing pole. What mattered was that my little boy was happy.

“Son that was your pole. I gave it to you. I have plenty of fishing poles, so don’t you worry about me, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“Now that you have a ‘big boy’ fishing pole, you need a ‘big boy’ tackle box to go with it.”

Gunner smiled and ran to where the tackle boxes were. He picked out a small tackle box and then we found a Rebel grasshopper for him to put in it. He was in Heaven.

     He would not let me carry any of his fishing gear. He said he was a big boy and could carry it all.

After paying for our purchase Gunner informed me that we had to go to my mom and dad’s house (E and Paw Paw) to show off his new fishing gear. Paw Paw and E have a pond at their house and he was ready to try out his new lure and pole on their fish.

Standing on the bank of the pond, I hooked a small bass on my fishing pole and handed the rod and reel to Gunner for him to reel in. He cheered and jumped up and down as the fish flopped from the water to the bank. As I had Gunner ‘help’ me get my line untangled, Paw Paw put the bass on Gunner’s fishing pole while he wasn’t looking and pitch the fish in the water. When my pole was squared away, Paw Paw handed Gunner his new fishing pole and told him to reel it in.

           Gunner has learned the art of holding the fish close to the camera so it appears much larger!

“I got a fish!”

“Another one!” I shouted. “Man you are tearing them up buddy!”

“It is huge Dad!”

The bass broke the surface and Gunner cheered again. As Paw Paw took the bass off the line, Gunner ‘helped’ me catch a frog, then Paw Paw put the bass back on Gunner’s fishing pole. Once again, Gunner reeled in his pole and shouted, “I got another fish!” By now the bass was wore out and just let himself get drug in by the excited little boy and hung nicely for some pictures while Gunner bragged up the ‘three’ bass that he caught on his new lucky pole.

 

 Since that day, he does not go anywhere without his fishing pole and tackle box. My wife made a trip to Virginia with my oldest daughter and Gunner went along. He refused to get in the car until they figured out a way to get his fishing pole and tackle box in a VW bug! The little boy is so hooked on fishing, my wife bought him a toy fishing pole with plastic fish so he can fish in the bathtub while he takes a bath. Now that is a love for fishing and I may have created a monster!