Take a Kid Fishing

Many years ago people of my generation and older would regularly watch a television show called The Southern Sportsman. Franc White was the host, and the format was pretty simple and consistent. He would show some footage of fishing or hunting trip, go to the kitchen and show you how to cook whatever he caught or killed, and then finish the footage.

He would venture throughout North and South Carolina and go anywhere from the mountains to coast and all places in between. White was easily identified by his zebra striped boat and airplane. Even the commercials that played during his show became synonymous with both the outdoors and himself, such as the line “choose Happy Jack, your dog would.” It was part of the show each weekend.

But probably the most recognizable and memorable part of the show was Franc White’s closing line. Each and every show ended with “Do yourself a favor, take a kid fishing.”

Now there are many lines that people use everyday, including “give a man a fish, he will eat for a day; teach a man to fish, and he will eat forever.” Well, take a kid fishing, and he will love the outdoors forever.

DONATE NOW TO HELP TAKE A CLASS FISHING! CLICK HERE

And that brings me to this. A social media ‘friend’, Samantha Gay, has come up with a field trip for two classes at the school where she works. It would probably be best if I shared her exact words:

“As we all know, exposure to the nature is very important to children’s development, intellectually, emotionally, socially, spiritually, and physically. If children are raised with little or no connection to nature, they may miss out on the many benefits that being outdoors offers. Research shows that outdoor experiences help reduce negative stress and protect psychological well-being, especially in children undergoing stressful life events. It also suggests that children involved in outdoor educational settings show improvement in self-esteem, problem solving and motivation to learn!

By encouraging children to get out and enjoy the simplicity of nature while doing something so rewarding as fishing, they are able to obtain knowledge and skills that can be applied to all areas of their lives. Knowing how to fish instills confidence, as it builds independence and self-worth. It also teaches children the wonders of the great outdoors, while developing an appreciation and respect for nature. Learning a skill, such as fishing, also teaches patience, good morals and ethics, while promoting healthier lifestyles, as well. Unfortunately, in the technological age we live in, people, especially children, spend less time playing outdoors than any other generation. Children are spending more time indoors, glued to a television set and/or video games, becoming less active, which also has profound effects on their health.”

Samantha is raising funds and donations to assist in the field trip, and in doing so, is hoping to be able to leave each of the kids with a rod and reel to keep for themselves.

Imagine if your teacher announced to your class in fourth grade that you would be going on a field trip fishing, and get to keep a rod and reel so you can go fishing anytime you wanted afterwards. It is easy to understand why these kids are so excited.

In the process, many donors have stepped up, including the likes of Zebco, Plano, Flambeau, Rat-L-Trap, Strike King, Gary Yamamoto, and many more. But there is still more needed. The field trip is coming up on May 6th.

If you would be interested in donating money, you can do so at http://www.gofundme.com/gethookedonfishing. Or you can contact Samantha directly at samanthagayfishing@gmail.com to volunteer, or assist in other ways.

You never know what will be the one thing that influences someone’s life, and something like this has the potential to do so.

And to modify the late Franc White’s encouraging closing line, do yourself a favor and help take a kid fishing.

Unpredictable Tom

They say when the dogwoods begin to bloom, the bass start biting. It brings about another sign as well, and it has nothing to do with fish.

It is the middle of April. This is when that one hunting season that is off on its own, comes around. Yes, this particular hunting season is similar to the outer planets of the solar system. While dove season leads to deer season, which in turn leads to fox and squirrel and raccoon and duck seasons, turkey season becomes our primary focus. Of course, the focus includes the anguish that goes along with turkey hunting.

Do not get me wrong, turkey season does not burden the hunter with such things as breaking through inches of ice just to get to a blind in the middle of a swamp so you can get the opportunity to try and determine what kind of bird is flying at supersonic speeds at the break of dawn in the fog. No, turkey season brings along the burden of trying not to step on a snake, while setting up a blind on the edge of a field beside a swamp land of hardwoods just so you can get the opportunity to try and imitate a hen and listen to a tom gobble mere feet away from you yet never see him.

Oh, and while you do pick up your decoys in both cases afterwards, duck hunting may require tossing dozens in the back of a boat while turkey hunting only consists of two or three decoys. But turkey hunting makes up for the slack time as you pick off the hundreds of ticks that have found refuge in your camouflage wardrobe while you were sitting with your back against a tree in a perfectly still position.

Like the saying goes, if it was easy, everyone would do it.

The problem with that is on public land, it may seem like everyone is doing it. Some are doing it right. Some are doing it wrong. The ones doing it wrong likely sit within a few yards of you not even realizing you are there. Or they continuously over-call thinking your Jake decoy is a tom on the other side of the field from them. Hey, we all have to learn though, right?

The birds have a mind of their own, and just like a teenager hitting puberty, you never know where their mind may be. Too many times I have had the perfect hunt ruined by a bird with the brain of, well, a bird.

I have worked them to within 100 yards after being nearly a half mile away, only for them to hen-up. I have packed my things after not even getting one response from a call after hours and hours of hunting, and on my return trip from the truck to get the last few things such as the blind and stool, run a tom off that was within feet of the blind.

I have been sitting in preparation for a tom coming around the back side of the blind at ten yards, finger shaking nervously on the trigger release of my bow, to see the beard drag the ground as he flew by the window of the blind. Yes, the beating of the wings startled me as much as anything, well, except for the 400 pound bear that followed the tom by the window at ten yards distance.

A friend of mine, one of the people that got me interested in hunting with a bow and hunting turkeys, once left his blind after five hours of hunting with complete silence around him. He was taking a smoke break. Just after he lit his cigarette, three hens landed in front of him from a roost behind him, with a tom in tow. He had his shotgun with him and he was as shocked as the tom was. That bird is now mounted in his den.

It is funny that a bird with the head of a vulture can be so beautiful. But maybe it is only beautiful for the chase. Tom seems to be the one that keeps telling me no, which makes me obsess over him more and more. One day Tom. One day the anguish will end.

Can Invasive Species Become Welcome Guests?

I was sitting in front of the computer looking over some stories and maps of a future fishing trip. It was a species I have targeted before, but from a different means. I traveled to the Potomac River just south of Washington, D.C. to hunt the northern snakehead with bow and arrow by means of bowfishing equipment. I have since been enamored with the ‘Frankenfish,’ as it is sometimes called.

This coming trip, I wanted to bring it in with hook and line from the top of a kayak.

Each year, the Maryland fisheries division holds a snakehead tournament over a weekend in May. Prizes are given to teams which bring in the greatest total weight of the exotic fish. Chefs are on hand at the weigh-ins t show both the anglers, bowfishers, and spectators how to prepare what is likely to be one of the best fish plates one could ever taste.

The tournament started as a way to try and control the population as the snakehead has grown exponentially since its first discovery just a decade ago in a small feeder creek to the Potomac. The quick population explosion is what worried both biologists and sportsmen, as the fear of overtaking existing species such as shad, largemouth and smallmouth bass, and striped bass was more than they could stand.

While reading one report on the snakehead, there was mention about another invader of the Potomac; the largemouth bass. The story went on to tell of how the largemouth was first introduced in the 1800’s. That is where I became a little confused.

Snakehead from the Potomac River a few years ago.

You see, the largemouth bass was actually introduced. They were not brought to the area by mistake, hence, they cannot be a so-called invasive species. The northern snakehead on the other hand, was dumped into the waters of the area not as a way to add sport, control existing resources, or farm. It was dumped there as a way to get rid of the fish when it became too large for an aquarium. (Or so the story goes.)

Many times, we use carp as an example of invasive species. Indeed, in the upper Mississippi River they are. They have taken over the river and grown uncontrollably. They threaten to breach dams below the Great Lakes and the fear there is one of ecological horror. However carp in most lakes and ponds in the Carolinas are not due to their invasion of a territory. In fact, they were introduced as a manner to control certain underwater plants. There was a plan in place in their introduction. Most of these same areas went as far as to have carp that were sterile and unable to breed.

Sometimes, these same species can prove to be something else other than invasive as well. No one knew how detrimental the snakehead would be to the Potomac River. They could only go on a short range of data. But a decade later, with the snakehead as common as a bass, catfish, or carp, there has not been any proof as of yet that the other species’ populations have decreased. The snakehead may have found its balancing point, or at least be near it.

The snakehead has also offered a potentially beneficial means of funds for the conservation and preservation of other species and the overall environment of the Potomac River. There are guides that make their livelihood off of showing anglers where and how to fish for the alien creature. The wildlife and fishery divisions of both Maryland and Virginia surely gain sales of licenses from those such as myself that wish to chase such a unique and strange fish that are not found in their part of the world, but are illegal to possess alive.

In the somewhat words of a line in the movie Jurassic Park, nature finds a way. And many times, nature knows how to eventually reach the equilibrium of her species.

Temptations

The options are abundant. A sportsman has a variety of things to engage in currently.

The turkeys abound throughout Pisgah gamelands. Besides the sheer numbers, the land is some of the most beautiful in the state. It is by far one of my favorite places to hunt. Clear flowing streams trickling over the smooth stones. Foggy morning mists hovering low in the valleys. And a loud gobble as a Tom prepares to strut after dismounting from his roost. Yes, it is very tempting.

Then, of course, the stripers are beginning their annual pilgrimage up the Roanoke, Neuse, Tar and Cape Fear rivers. The striped bass that is so intent on its natural urge to spawn that it travels over 600 miles just to make an exhausting trip up rivers until they can go no further, all in the purpose of procreation. A species that was once so prolific it was said a single haul net at the beginning of the last century brought in 35000 of the rockfish. A species that could make Jeremy Wade seek a new river monster as another haul was reported as averaging 90 pounds per fish. Yes, it is very tempting.

The largemouth are starting their spawning process as well. A small farm pond anywhere will yield alien like troughs along the shorelines for the unknowing. For those in the know however, it means the bass are bedding. I remember the days when everything from a Beetle Spin or Roostertail, to an earthworm or cricket, and even a frog, Jitterbug, or Devil’s horse would be the ticket to bringing in the behemoth mouth. And if the fish were not biting? Just throw a Mister Twister worm over and over and over again until you irritate him so much that he attacks the lure that way. Trust me, it works. And yes, it is very tempting.

But then, you get a phone call. One you were not expecting. It is your son. Your son who is in college has a question. Money? Emergency? Everything flashes through a worried parent’s mind.

“Dad, you want to go fishing at the coast this weekend on the kayaks?”

Well, the fish have not hit the coastal waters quite yet, as the temperature is still a little low. But, my son is asking to go there.

“Yes, come on home Saturday and we will go out there that night,” I responded.

We thought about trying to fish a little at night, and all intentions to do so. Instead, we drove there, parked in the parking lot at the boat ramp, and talked. We talked more. We talked about school. We talked about friends. We talked about girls. We talked. We talked until 3:00 am.

We woke up shortly after sunrise, and backed up to the boat ramp, unloaded the kayaks, and paddled.

We fished open water. We fished under the bridge. We caught fish. We caught croakers, black sea bass, puffers and mullet.

Most of all though, we were with each other. No worries and no hesitation in sharing with each other our thoughts. It is how it is supposed to be. Father and son, enjoying something together and enjoying each other.

So when I got the call this week, I was not worried about money or an emergency. I just answered yes to the question he had, “do you want to go fishing this weekend?”

Yes, it is very tempting.

If the Hook is Wet, Be Ready

“You ain’t gonna catch any fish unless the hook is in the water.”

That was a wise saying from grandfather. I took it to heart too. After a cast, I would not pull the lure above the surface until there was no way not to. Many times I caught a bream or bass just inches from the shoreline with me standing a foot or so away.

Now, understand how a child takes something so seriously to follow the advice every time and then you hear something contrary to the wisdom given.

We had a boat that consisted of two pontoons held together by four sheets of plywood decking. It was built primarily for my grandfather’s business, as we had a pump in the pond that would send water down to the manufacturing plant to cool off the injection molding machines. The pontoon boat allowed my dad or other workers access to where the pump was in the pond if it failed with a large deck to work from.

Once, while in high school, we had a pump failure in the cold of winter. I was the guinea pig that day, and would have to go in the frigid water, dive below to find the pump, and bring it up to the surface in order to repair it. I was certified in SCUBA a few years prior and had always been comfortable around water, but I would be diving into water with near nothing for visibility and would free dive without a tank since the water was so cold that I would not be able to stay in long. Afterwards, I was quickly taken to shore where I ran into the house tossing my wet cold clothes and jumped into the lukewarm shower. It made me feel important.

But I digress.

We occasionally would take the pontoon boat out as a base to swim from in the pond, or to give us a platform in which several of us could fish. While I fished with my grandfather and dad many times in that pond, I only remember one time in which my grandfather and I were both fishing from the pontoon boat together.

We were out towards the center, near where the pump was located below. Papa would work the shoreline steadily, and occasionally get a bite or small largemouth. I was fishing from the other side, pretty much casting in the center of the pond away from any structure or shore. Papa evidently caught a glimpse of me casting and reeling and after several throws, finally had enough. “Lil’ Bill, you don’t have to reel it in all the way to the side of the boat.”

As he said that I was finishing bringing the lure in. I was looking more at Papa and paying little attention to what I was doing, other than reeling. Directly beside the boat, with the lure being lifted straight up, a largemouth shot from below and engulfed the bait, slapping the side of the boat with his body while doing so. He wasn’t a monster, more like a two or three pound bass. But Papa realized that his original saying was truer that what he was trying to explain to me. And I was as convinced as ever, that the longer the hook was wet, the better the chance to catch something.

Fast forward to this last weekend. I was fishing hard trying to upgrade my largest crappie for the North Carolina Kayak Fishing Association’s crappie tourney. I fished a great crappie fishery in Lake Jordan on Saturday, and brought one in a half inch larger that my previous best for the tourney. The fish were around 23 feet deep in water that was between 28 and 30 feet deep.

Sunday, I fished a lake that I had only fished once in the last three decades. But in the fifteen years prior, I knew every spot having spent my entire summers doing nothing but fishing. It didn’t take long to find where the crappie were staging. I had one rod with a cork and minnow, and another I was using a beetle spin to cast along the banks. I continuously swapped rods while bringing in black crappie in the 10 to 11 ½ inch size range.

Once, after a particular aggressive strike and fight with an 11 incher, the minnow was pushed up the line from the hook about an inch. I unhooked the slab and laid the rod down with the tip sticking over the front of the kayak. As I measured the crappie, the tip took a jump and I quickly grabbed the Denali Rosewood spinning rod. It bent over double as the crappie pulled under the kayak with only a foot or so of line stretched from the tip.

From crappie hovering over 20 feet deep the day before, to a crappie that basically attacked a mangled and dead minnow that was not even on the hook at the surface, it again proved, you ain’t gonna catch a fish, if your hook ain’t in the water. Or maybe it proved something else, as in if the hook is in the water, you better be prepared to catch a fish.