Lady fisher suggested we start a post on the first fish we ever caught. (I didn’t catch on to that idea the first time through her article.)
My uncle took my younger brother and I fishing, along with my cousin, to a pond a few miles from town, and on that day my brother and we each caught a bluegill.
My bluegill was caught on a small popper, I think it was probably a #14. I don’t remember the color, but it was probably red and white. Our aunt fried the bluegill, probably pretty small ones, for us.
That was about 50 years ago, and a very good memory, but I remember it clearly.
Can’t remember the first fish caught - My Dad would tell me my Grandpa took me before I could walk to a trout farm. I barely remember the place. It was called Silverwood Ranch - i believe it was close to Riverside Calif, but not sure.
I do remember my first fish caught on a fly. I was about 11 - 12 years old and would watch Gadabout Gaddis the Flying Fisherman on TV wave his rod around and catch fish on a fly. I had to try it. I begged the parents for an outfit and sure enough one Christmas came rod, reel, and fly tying kit. I tied a Royal Coachman (sort of ) then the next trip my dad took me to a place outside of Boumont called Fisherman’s Retreat. That’s where I taught myself to cast (sort of) and caught my first Bluegill. I have loved the Bluedill on the Fly ever since. That would be since the early 60’s.
My first was a cutthroat trout on Middle Creek about a half hour from home. Got it on a nightcrawler. Fishing with my dad and younger brothers. That was in the early 60’s.
Well in the late 50’s, on Pine MT. in Beaver Creek South of Rock Springs just over the CO border. It was on a small Colorado spinner in some beaver ponds, DUH. I was with my Dad and brother.
I believe it was a brookie, I remember it seemed huge at the time. First fish on a fly was in Big Sandy Lake in the summer of 1970 july I think. Another brookie, don’t remember the size or the fly. I think I was by my self for this one. I had walked in for the day to try out the new Eagle claw pack rod and try to learn to flyfish.
july 1949 i was almost 5 years old, salmon falls creek reservoir idaho, steel telescoping rod that was way long, pfleuger trump reel with ruby brearings, braided black nylon line no leader but for the snell on the hook tied to the line with a couple half hitches and a knot in the end of the line., red and white balsa bobber, big old night crawler. all that for a 4" yellow perch.
The first fish I remember catching were bluegills with worms. Just me and dad.
First fish on a fly was about 4 years ago at Cedar Bluff reservoir “Stilling Basin”. A little 4" bluegill on a #12 black beetle, that I tied up, in the middle of the day.
I can’t remember my first fish but I it was probably a yellow perch off of the Grand haven pier. Dad would take my brothers and I to the pier with long cane poles sticking out the windows of the car and must have spent most of his time baiting hooks and unhooking fish.
a baby flounder out of the creek we lived on where it went under the road and into the bay. the hook had passed through the nose of the fish (the bait was long gone, eaten by something else) and to this day no one believes me…
6" trout from a coastal steam in Oregon 42 years ago, man that fish tasted good.
first fish on a fly, blue gill, on a size 12 black ant, cast the ant under a pond side willow and have been hooked ever since.
More than likely, it was a catfish while fishing with my Dad, around 1951, I guess I was five at the time. We used high-tech fishing tools, the line was that old fashioned camoflauged nylon line, different colors every foot or so, wrapped around an empty can. Our bait was whatever meat happened to be going bad at the time or some left over chicken internal organs left over from Sunday dinner (except the heart, liver and gizzard, those went on the table). Old spark plugs from the last tune up on the family car were the weights we used. Stick some meat on the hook, swing that hook and spark plug around a couple times and let fly. To “reel” in was just a hand over hand thing until we were done for the night, then the line got wound back on the can. The Red River of the North ran muddy and swift most of the year, except when it froze in the winter, and in the spring when it ran high, muddy and fast. It also held some mighty big catfish. Somewhere there is a picture of me at the age of five holding a five pound catfish that I had landed. My Dad always said the only reason I landed the fish was that Dad was holding onto my belt, other wise I’d have been dragged into the river and drowned by that fish.
I’ll remember my fist fish for the rest of my life. My dad took me fishing when I was about six years old. I was on a tiny peninsular about 4 feet wide by 6 feet long. Nothing was biting but I saw a mosquito land on the water about two feet from a bunch of cattails. I asked my dad if a fish might come up to eat the mosquito and he said “I don’t know, it might.” That was all it took. I stood there patiently with my baited hook in my hand poised waiting for a fish to eat the mosquito. Sure enough something, probably a very small bream, rose up under the mosquito and I threw my worm and hook at the mosquito. A 14 inch pickerel slashed out of the cattails and grabbed my hook with the worm on it and I caught my first fish. I was so proud. It was the largest fish of the evening and my dad let me keep it. I kept it in a bucket of water in the back hall for three days while I dragged my friends over to see my fish. I remember my grandmother chuckling when on the fourth day, I said “Nana it’s okay, we can clean and eat my fish now.” She explained to me that you can’t let a dead fish sit in a half bucket of cloudy water and expect it to be good to eat after three days. I was a little disappointed, but it was worth not eating the fish just to show all my friends. That Pickerel wasn’t the only thing that was hooked that day; I was hooked on fishing and still love all knds of fishing over 50 years later.
) then the next trip my dad took me to a place outside of Boumont called Fisherman’s Retreat. That’s where I taught myself to cast (sort of) and caught my first Bluegill. I have loved the Bluedill on the Fly ever since. That would be since the early 60’s.