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I spent the weekend at the cabin "Up North," near Outing, Minnesota. I
arose early Sunday morning, planning on spending the early morning hours
fishing. The previous evening my daughter's boyfriend said that he wished
to join me, as he enjoyed our previous day's fishing trip. It was a
beautiful summer day, the air was still cool, with the smell of dew still on
the foliage. The sky was clear, with wisps of clouds, gently moving across
the sky. The birds were singing their 'Morning Song,' all was right with the
world. You could not ask for a more perfect day. I felt that today was
going to be special. I didn't know how right I would be.
At the dock, I tidied up the boat, making sure everything was prepared and
in place for a morning on the water. I retrieved the fishing gear from the
boat house, and setup the boat, for some time on the water. Then I waited,
for my fishing partner to arrive, and waited . . . After a long wait,
I don't know how long, as I never wear a watch (when I am on my time). I
decided to fish just off shore of the dock, just along the shoreline, for
whatever may be there. So when my tardy fishing partner (who was so eager to
go fishing) finally shows, I would be nearby.
I found myself, out on the water, casting my 3 weight line, towards shore,
a scant 12 meters away. The land around the lake is steep, and the water
gets deep quickly, so there is a very narrow ribbon of aquatic structure
along the shore. The lake is fully developed with cabins and summer homes,
but the buildings are far enough back, so that they are hidden in the trees.
Except for the evidence the docks (with their accompanying boats) that jut
out into the lake, and the occasional boat house on shore. The lake has an
almost pristine look, further enhanced by the ever-present pair of Loons,
floating on the water. As my boat drifted along the shore, I met Peter, who
was in the process of diligently catching fish.
Peter was standing in a boat at, the end of the dock, fishing with his cane
pole. He was excited, he had a fish on the hook, and it was pure enjoyment
to watch him struggle with that fish. The fish gave a gallant fight, but
Peter proved himself the better and finally brought the fish to net. Peter
quickly removed the hook from the fish's mouth, and gently holding the fish,
while measuring to see if it would be a keeper. Then, since it was too
small, he quickly and gently returned the fish to the water. The lack of
size to the fish did not disappoint him. He reveled in the moment. I have
known Peter for a few years, and I have come to enjoy his company. So I
decided to anchor the boat just a little way offshore, to share the early
morning time fishing near him. And enjoying his delight with every fish he
caught.
Peter would catch three fish for every fish that I was able to hook. But
since he was using bait, that is very understandable. Yet I was not lacking
in the pleasures of bringing fish to net either. I observed Peter, using
all the proper conduct of a responsible angler, who practices the discipline
of 'Catch & Release.' Finally he caught one that was much bigger than the
others that he had returned to the water. He was so excited at the size
that he was shouting his words, as he described the fish to me. It was a
keeper, and I was glad for him. He put down his fishing gear and ran up
the hill to show his Grandpa Chuck the 8-inch Yellow Perch he had just
caught.
"Peter the Great," is eight years old, and starts the Third Grade of school
this coming autumn. May he have many years of fishing pleasure, and may he
never lose the thrill, that I was allowed to partake in that very special
morning. At the lake, "Up North." ~ Steven H. McGarthwaite
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