Family fishing ain't for the faint of heart
Or, If I take a kid fishing, do I have to bring it back?
For those ignorant of such matters, there are basically two types of fishing: serious fishing and family fishing. Serious fishing occurs when a devoted angler ventures out into the wild alone, with no distractions and only one quest in mind: to catch worthy, trophy fish. It's man vs. nature in an almost spiritual battle. It's just you and the fish, and maybe a few crickets and Georgia wigglers.
Wondrous, magical things can happen while a sportsman is engaged in serious fishing. If he keeps quiet and still, the natural world will come alive around him. The breeze will blow wistfully, deer will bravely sip at the water's edge nearby, birds will sing serene lullabies, and the fish will leap breathtakingly out of the water. Surrounded by the beauty and awe of nature, the serious angler will soon find himself fighting gigantic fish after fish, the fish of his dreams, while he meditates and ponders the true meaning of life. In a nutshell, serious fishing is pure, divine fun.
And then there is family fishing. Family fishing is a different kind of fun. Cover your ears and look away if you are squeamish. A Navy Seal trained to endure physical and mental torture on both land and sea may turn deserter or give up national secrets rather than take his family fishing. Comparing serious fishing to family fishing is like comparing a peaceful canoe ride at the lake to shooting the rapids at Niagara Falls in a wooden shoe.
A family fishing trip “ain't for the faint of heart,” my Granny used to say, and she would know. South Carolina Department of Natural Resources law enforcement agents once had to break up a fight between Granny and her equally geriatric sister, Edna, that broke out right in the boat while fishing over a redbreast bed in the swamp. (One family member says they were still fighting over a handsome soldier returning from fighting the Nazis in the European Theater, another claims that Granny was still upset because Edna ate her share of the chocolate rations during World War II, but as you will soon see, you can’t trust family members.)
Whatever the cause, Granny was declared a winner by walking-cane knockout, but only because Aunt Edna was fighting singlehanded and southpaw - she had a fish on the line in her right hand and refused to put her cane pole down during the final bout.
Many factors contribute to the adventure known as family fishing. Fish are well known for their inconsiderate habit of congregating in the most inaccessible of places, thus making an honest fishermen's work difficult and often dangerous. Gators gather where the fishing is good. Hornets tend to hang around the honey holes. Snakes slither around the sweet spots. Dragons dwell near the drop-offs - well, you get the idea. And you can't always take your family in the deep swamps and dense bogs where the insensitive boogers are hiding, especially if you have small children.
It happens all too often that the only safe place to enjoy family fishing is the little half-acre cow pond close by. The fact that no one has caught a fish in that pond since Uncle Jake "The Skunk" Williams went skinny dipping there in 1973 can make a family fishing trip even more challenging.
Family fishing can be far too frustrating and unnerving for the serious fisherman because there's always at least one person in the fishing party who makes trouble. For example, here is a transcript of one of my recent family fishing trips, taken straight from police and family court records:
"Okay, y'all be quiet now or the fish won't bite," whispers the father.
"Da-Da-Da!" yells the toddler, as he throws a Lego block in the water.
"Honey, can I use your brand-new fishing pole?" yells the mother.
"Da-Da-Da! "Splash! This time it is a Transformer toy that goes swimming.
"Honey, I think I snagged your new pole in that tree over there. Wait a minute, it broke free. Okay, I need a new line now."
"Da-Da-Da!" Splash! This time it was one of Da-Da’s high-priced, lucky lures that goes in the pond. Splash! And there goes the new cricket cage.
"Honey, now I need a new hook, line, and sinker. Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Da-Da-Da!” Splash! This time the child has taken off his soiled diaper and thrown it in the pond. And there must have been something environmentally hazardous inside of it, judging by the fact that a few faint-of-heart fish have floated belly up to the surface.
"Honey, don’t forget I need a cricket, too. Why is your face all red? Have you checked your blood pressure lately? I keep telling you about eating all that salt…"
At this point the father’s nerves are about as fragile as a four-pound-test line. He sits down to calm himself, take his nerve medication and enjoy a refreshing cold beverage.
"Honey, you promised not to drink straight out of the bottle in front of the children."
And then it happens. The father gets a huge bite. Putting up with all of the challenges of a family fishing trip is about to pay off! Old Dad is about to land a big fish!
Splash! There goes Old Dad’s new cell phone, right about where the Titanic sleeps.
"Honey, it's getting hot out here. Are you ready to go? I’m ready to go. Let’s go."
In addition to being fraught with frustration, family fishing can also lead to resentment among family members, usually on the ride home from the pond.
"Honey, I'm sorry I broke your new fishing pole," says the mother.
The father mumbles and grumbles something unkind about womankind in general, then adds something menacing and threatening under his breath, using words that have “cide” at the end of them.
"Honey, I'm sorry the baby threw your tackle box in the water. We’ll get you another one."
Mumble, mumble, grumble, grumble. Cide, cide, cide.
"Honey, next time I promise not to catch more fish than you do. And I’m sorry I posted about it on Facebook. I promise I won’t tell anyone else."
(Sibling rivalry and jealousy are a major part of family fishing, and can lead to multi-generational family feuds like the Hatfields and McCoys.)
Even in childhood, well before marriage and kids of your own, family fishing fun can be hindered by powerful emotions such as sibling rivalry and jealousy. For example, let’s consider an incident that occurred years ago while I was fishing with my little brother. It was just a normal day at our favorite childhood fishing hole. The younger sibling was on one side of the dock and I on the other. It was miserably hot, and the mosquitoes were nipping at our heels. They were also nipping at our arms, legs, and torsos as well. We hadn't had any other kind of bite in hours and were sweaty, bored and grumpy. Suddenly, my brother got a powerfully promising strike. It looked like a big one!
At this point there is an ongoing dispute as to what actually occurred, a dispute that our children and grandchildren will likely still debate in a generational family feud to rival the Hatfields and McCoys. I contend that while trying to swat a mosquito I accidently swung my line over to my brother's side of the dock, my bait landing just centimeters away from his bobbing cork. He claims that I was engaged in a crude and highly unethical form of fishing bordering on the criminal usually resorted to by only the most ill-bred, illegitimate, and ignorant scums of society. At any rate, I quickly landed the largest, most magnificent bluegill either of us had ever seen in our young lives. Shaking with excitement, I placed the blue-scaled trophy on the dock to admire it, where it lay glittering like wet diamonds in the sun. It was a truly beautiful childhood moment that I’ll never forget.
And then my sibling fishing partner, in a fit of jealous rage, kicked it back in the water and ran home to tell Momma and destroy my favorite toys.
A wise man, I believe it was Alexander Pope, once wrote: "A family is but too often a commonwealth of malignants." And it was the great Mark Twain who added: "There is no use in your walking five miles to fish when you can depend on being just as unsuccessful near home."
I must say that these were two men who knew a little something about family fishing.