By John ‘Butch’ Dale
Guest Columnist
One of the favorite activities for kids in the good old days was fishing.
My dad taught me how to fish when I was six years old. My aunt and uncle and their two boys lived right across the road from our farm, and just a few yards west of their lane was a man-made dam that formed a small pond, perhaps 100 feet long and 10-12 feet deep. A large metal tile jutted out from the east end, and when I was older I spent many an afternoon sitting on the edge, bamboo pole in hand. I don’t recall catching any large fish, but I could always count on snagging several “sunnies” and blue gills. Looking back, it likely was not too smart for me to fish at that pond, as I couldn’t swim a lick!
My brother Gary and cousin John Wells often fished together on those sunny afternoons at the dam. We never had much in the way of fishing equipment, and we never used any other types of bait as we always had good luck with nightcrawlers (and yes, after they were placed on the hook, we spit on them for good luck!).
We often caught 25 to 30 small-size fish in an hour or so, and then headed home to clean them up for frying. All of the “shiners” were thrown back, as they were too bony to eat. Once in a while we snagged a snapping turtle and had to cut the fishing line, as we considered it too dangerous to try remove the hook.
Not having a boat, one afternoon we constructed a small wooden raft and dragged it to the pond. After easing it into the water, our plans for boat fishing soon were scuttled, as the homemade raft immediately sank to the bottom. Discouraged, a new plan was in order, and we decided on a small metal washtub
I was nominated to be the first to try it’s seaworthiness, and was subsequently shoved out into the pond. I was quite frightened as the washtub bobbed back and forth before finally drifting to a bank. If it had capsized, I would have drowned for sure, and that little episode will always remain in my mind as one of the dumbest things I ever did!
There were two other good fishing spots within bike-riding distance from our farm, both of them former gravel pits which were stocked with fish … Needham’s pond near the Boone County line and Horn’s pond, which was just south of where my Grandpa and Grandma Dale lived.
The Needham pond seemed to have larger fish, but many times at Horn’s pond we didn’t even need worms. We could just throw in our lines and start catching fish … one right after another! On a few occasions, we caught a frog, and no, we had no desire to eat frog legs, but we kept them for a few days before granting their freedom.
For some reason we never had much luck fishing at Sugar Creek, which many consider a great stream for fly-fishing. I did catch a large catfish there on one occasion when I was older, and subsequently got “stung” trying to remove the hook … OUCH! A few times I rode my bike all the way to Shannondale to fish on Little Sugar Creek. Just north of the church there was a large tree which had roots that extended from the creek bank, a perfect place to sit in the shade and cast my line.
Dad also took me ice fishing one time at the conservation club pond, but I decided that fishing when the temperature is 10 above zero was not for me.
It seems that very few kids go fishing nowadays during the summer. They are too busy playing video games, watching TV, texting on their cellphones … or unfortunately … doing things they should not be doing.
There were a few times in which I caught very few fish, but it was great just to be outdoors and enjoy nature. My dad would accompany us on several occasions. He was glad to take a break from farming. We fished, we talked, he told stories … and we had fun TOGETHER.
To those of you who also went fishing as a youngster, I miss those days, don’t you?
