I am post dating this post so it appears on the date my son and I went fishing.

To kickoff the Memorial Day weekend, I wanted to emphasize family time. We had a shindig planned with people coming over on Sunday and definite pool plans on Monday. But to kick it off with good emphasis, I woke my son up early Saturday morning so we could go fishing. We hadn’t been in a while and he had been asking. So we beat the sun up and packed up the poles and tackle, bought some live bait, and headed to a spot where a friend had some luck earlier in the month.

We arrived at Miles Park only to find the “old men chasing a little while ball club” (also known as the SPGA) had absconded with the park for the weekend. With the Senior PGA at Valhalla, Miles Park was rented for the parking and they weren’t allowing fishing. Lame and a total bust! (Another reason I don’t like golf.)

So plan B kicked in and D and I headed down the street to Long Run Park. It is a very scenic area with a large-ish pond (or small lake). A few fellow fisherman beat us there, but none had taken our favorite spot in an inlet with some downed trees. It must be a good spot though because as we pulled up we scared off a blue heron who was fishing the same spot.

Soon enough worms were on hooks and lines were in the water. The air was a bit chilly for just a t-shirt but perfect in an hour or two. The mist slowly rose from the lake and we could hear the occasional splash of a fish jumping for breakfast.

D caught the first fish — a smaller but nice bass (I think). It put up a pretty good fight and D was thrilled. I am proud of him because his dad is not a fisherman by any stretch of the imagination. I actually hate fishing and would be much more successful if they allowed firearms. It burns me that I can see my fish but can never coax them into anything more than just stealing my bait. So for my son to actually do well fishing is nice to see because he didn’t learn it from me — other than maybe how to worm a hook and how to cast. I am just one of those who pays my yearly donation to the Kentucky Fish and Game Dept (more commonly known as a fishing license to normal people).

However, as I was thinking about that quote for this post and smiling at my son’s luck and the scenery around me, my line drops down and I get a tug on my pole. Could it be that my “donation” this year might actually provide a dividend in the form of a captured fish? Sure enough, there was something on my line and it wanted to get away. Now in the past, my luck has always been to hook the spirited, energetic fish that provide quite a fight only to be removed from the water to reveal a tiny pipsqueek fish. This appeared to be another one of those times. So while I enjoyed the tugs and fight during the reel in process, I did not have my hopes up. I was genuinely surprised when I pulled out the largest fish I have ever caught — which isn’t saying much. I don’t know how long he was or how much he weighed but the catfish was quite a beauty. I did get a picture of it though thanks to the wonders of today’s technology and my cell phone camera.

Even a bad fisherman gets lucky every once in a while.

…..Dan at aslowerpace dot net

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