Easing along the banks of the small stream I stopped momentarily and dropped my red worm into a deeper hole. The cork wiggled slightly before disappearing beneath the surface. I set the hook and jerked the diminutive bream from the water. After baiting up again I put another offering in the same hole. This time a small catfish engulfed my worm. A few minutes later I caught a small bass from the same spot.
As I followed the shallow stream around the bend some 40 years ago, I came upon another youngster and his grandmother who were fishing the same stream. Naturally I stopped to see who they were and ended up talking to them while continuing to catch fish. And yes the other youngster was catching them as well.
After a few minutes of fishing and catching fish with them, it didn’t take long to figure out that this youngster was somewhat of a “Huck Finn”. And yes he was catching fish and talking ninety to nothing at the same time.
It was obvious to see that he was not shy about fishing or telling me how to do it or relating how good a fisherman he was. And yes, he spent a lot of time telling me what all else he could do as we fished that small stream.
Regular partners
Over the next few weeks of that summer we fished together quite a few times and continued to catch fish on every trip. I was continually amazed at this youngster as he stayed right with me and matched me fish for fish most of the time. And that was pretty amazing to me as I thought I was the best fisherman around.
Our love for fishing was plain to see and we were the best fishermen to ever fish that small stream that poured into Harper Creek in Suqualena. Of course we thought we were the best in the world. More importantly we caught fish on every trip and had a big time.
Our weekly trips to that small stream were never planned. We didn’t really see each other until we met on the banks of that creek, but I was always amazed at the way he could catch fish.
Though we were both resolute in our quest for catching fish, there was something quite different about this youngster. Though I occasionally saw the kid around town in the years after that summer, I never saw another person like him before or since.
Though he was the size of most kids, his hands were completely turned around backwards. It looked like his arms were twisted completely around right at the wrist. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard to impress me with all he could do.
No handicap here
Being so young, I never talked to anybody about it much, but just noticed that he was different, as all kids would have. I was continually amazed at the things he could do, and learned more about him each time we went fishing. If you hadn’t looked directly at him, and just watched from a distance you would have never known that he had some type of rare birth defect. I look back with wonder now, but didn’t really think a lot about it at the time as we were just kids on the creek bank catching fish.
We didn’t just go fishing, we caught fish. It didn’t matter to the fish what color we were, or if we had one arm, or leg, or twisted hands, as long as we put that bait in front of them. That’s the beauty of fish catching, having fun and putting food on the table as well.
I’ve seen a lot of folks that claimed they didn’t like fishing. But most of them got bored from not catching anything and quit. On the other hand I’ve never seen anybody that didn’t like to catch a fish.
If you want to teach a youngster to love fishing, carry them somewhere they can catch a fish, and lots of them. It won’t matter how big or small they are, if they can catch a fish, most kids will be hooked on fishing. Take my advice and carry a kid “fish catching” right now. There will never be a better time as the bream and catfish are now bedding and biting.
Outdoors
Related Photos
Discussion
May 21, 2009
Bream catching: Fun for all kids!
- Outdoors
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Foy on Turkey hunting and S.H.A.R.E.
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How to hunt and take Lauderdale County’s biggest buck
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Final day monster bucks
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Successful Elk hunt?
We knew going in that the odds were against us. An elk every five years of hunting is the average. Even hunting for the more plentiful cows in the great herds of the mountains, our chances were not much better than the cow/bull average. Throw in the fact that our hunt followed the rut by a month when the November storms move the elk, slow our pace with deep snows and freezing winds, and we had a deck stacked against us that included the handicap of hunting an area completely unfamiliar, except for maps. My nephew, Rob and I were in for a challenge.
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