My Mom was my first fishing buddy, the person who lit the fire for trying to catch fish. She never used a flyrod, but did like the feel of the local bamboo that was available. In warm weather when chores were finished she would send me with a tin can down to the reliable sites around the barn to dig earth worms, we would stop to see if Edmona, the share cropper on the adjoining farm was free to go and we would head over to the Sabougla canal, which border the cotton fields we would pick in the fall.