Fishing on Father's Day

It’s Fathers day and you couldn’t have asked for a more delightful summer morning. After doing chores in the barn I checked the pond and saw fish jumping. At breakfast I convinced my husband it was time he went fishing again. He hasn’t fished much in the last few years. Our pond was without fish for a few years and he had mobility problems until he was able to get his electric wheelchair.


But today the stars were in alignment. The pond has fish and he has mobility. He also had a new fishing pole given to him by our son last Fathers Day. It was a cute little set up that folded into a pouch so you could fish anywhere. So after breakfast he started assembling it. The tying on of the hook was a problem- his eyes are worse than mine, so I took over. That’s not easy with my twisted fingers anymore. But we got her done.

Some worms were located. We made our journey to the pond, chickens and turkeys trailing us through the back pasture. I don’t fish, but I like to sit near water and watch for birds and other wildlife. The pond is deep and full this year. I wanted to make sure that hubby didn’t hit the controls accidentally on that electric chair and go flying down the steep bank into the pond.

In the morning there is some shade on the south bank from a maple that has finally grown big enough to do some good. We settled there. First thing he noticed was that the line was tangled on the reel. I took the reel apart and tried to untangle the fine line- but removing the line from the pole was required. That meant cutting the hook off. We checked the nearby bench and sure enough his old tackle box was still under it, with a rusty pair of scissors inside.

With the rusty pair of scissors I managed to cut off the hook then reassembled the reel. The untangled line was then rethreaded through the eyes on the pole and then there was that wonderful task of tying on a hook again. Next came the bobber. With the old tackle box in front of him he had the choice of a small bobber that came with the kit or a larger bobber in the old tackle box. He decided on the larger bobber.

A worm was finally threaded on the hook, he had to do that himself, and the line cast. Whoops, line was catching on a small protrusion of plastic on the reel. After a few frustrating tries to cast, hubby takes the scissors and scrapes off the protrusion. The line is cast, he’s finally fishing.

I wander away to the ponds edge farther west where the bank is low. Teeny tiny frogs are hopping everywhere I step, I have to catch one to make sure it’s a frog and not a spider; they are so small and black. Good thing the chickens have left, they don’t venture this far. But I do see the blue heron down here a lot in the evening - now I know why.

Bull frogs are “bonking” around me and when I settle into a chair by the water two big bullfrog heads emerge from the water, one on the right, the other on the left to watch me. Swallows are swooping over the water as well as big blue dragon flies. I see fish jumping from the water and a bobber landing near the spot.

The warm water next to the shore is filled with tadpoles, ones that will emerge much bigger than the tiny ones I have decided are spring peepers. A few small fish wiggle by and one huge bullfrog tadpole. I watch two chick- a-dees picking something off the autumn olive near the pond, must be bugs. A bird is singing in the taller shrubs behind me whose song I don’t recognize and I squint into the sun trying to see the bird.

A few casts later, I hear he has a bite. Then I hear the line is tangled in the weeds, and then I hear a muffled curse. The thin pole has snapped. Oh well, fishing was fun while it lasted.