I’m fairly certain the first fish I ever cleaned was a bream. Dad and I had caught several five-gallon bucketfuls of the panfish while fishing below the spillway at Mr. Ethrel Roberts’ watershed lake that June afternoon. I can still see it as if I were standing there, pole in hand.

Back home that evening, we set up our fish-cleaning station on the backyard picnic table and busied ourselves with the task of cleaning what country folk call a “mess” of fish. I had been fishing for several years, and now it was time to learn how to properly clean what I caught.

Before handing over the filet knife, Dad cleaned a few, giving the necessary instruction at each step along the way. I remember watching as he placed the plump strawberry bream’s tail into the clip of the cleaning board and set about filleting the fish.

After watching several demonstrations, I was given the knife. The moment of truth was at hand and while I can’t say that each of my first attempts was perfect, I can give assurance that no surgeon ever set about his work with a more delicate hand.

I was keenly aware of the importance of wasting as little of the precious meat as possible which, to the unpracticed hand, was much harder than it looked. When it comes to filleting fish, the old saying “practice makes perfect” certainly applies.

These days, after years of practice, my filets are much more intact; however, my first attempts certainly revealed my inexperience with the process. I reminded myself of this fact last week as I stood watching and instructing over the shoulder of a young man in the process of cleaning his first fish.

Dan and I had spent the morning fishing on the lake here at the farm with Jude Dunn of Starkville. We attend church with Jude and his family at the Episcopal Church of the Resurrection, and when his mom Laura asked for help with Jude’s Fishing Merit Badge for Boy Scouts, I jumped at the chance to help.

For a young man entering the seventh grade, Jude is quite the accomplished fisherman. Among those accomplishments, he has flyfished for trout in Yellowstone and caught peacock bass, tarpon, snook and redfish.

We didn’t need to teach Jude how to fish (he could have taught us), however, he needed to learn how to clean a fish, and to do that we needed to catch a few. I had a feeling that with a storm front set to roll in just before lunch catching a few bass early Friday morning wouldn’t be a problem.

My feeling was spot on as, between the three of us, we caught forty bass. I know that probably sounds like a lot, however, our lake is currently overstocked (thanks to my overzealous restocking efforts) and we need to catch and keep every bass under 18 inches.

We’ve still got a few nice sized largemouths in the lake as Jude can attest, having had two snap his 12-pound test line during our morning outing. However, we’re overrun with small fish in the 12-to-18-inch range which was the perfect problem for a young fisherman that needs to learn how to clean a fish.

Just before lunch, with storm clouds advancing and thunderclaps in the distance, we headed for shore and the shelter of our back porch to set about cleaning the morning catch. After demonstrating the proper technique with an electric filet knife on the first few fish, I handed it over to Jude and stepped back to watch.

The young fisherman had the process down in no time and as I stood watching over his shoulder, I thought about another morning on the lake and another young man learning to clean his first fish under the watchful eyes of his dad and his “Pop.”

Dan had used the same electric filet knife on a June day in 2013 to clean his first fish. I thought about that day and the rite of passage that had taken place and the rite of passage that was, once again, taking place before my eyes with Jude.

I often find myself perplexed by the state of things in the world, in our country, or in “this generation.” Perhaps that is just a product of my age. After I dropped Jude with his parents, George and Laura, back in Starkville, I felt compelled to text them to let them know what a great job they are doing as parents.

Jude is an impressive young man. He is a wealth of knowledge and a pleasure to talk with about anything. He’s respectful, outgoing, and a joy to spend a morning with on the lake, fishing pole in hand. He gives me great hope that the future of the outdoors (and our country) is in good hands.

Mississippi writer Larry Brown said, “All we have to do as people is keep teaching our children to read, and the rest will more than likely take care of itself.” It’s one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite authors.

Thinking about it now, my only addition might be “to read and fish.” Until next time, here’s to mentoring the next generation of sportsmen and sportswomen, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.