Hooked on fishin'

Spring has sprung and it seems like summer is here. The first half of the Spring Turkey season is winding down and I am gearing up for the late season. I still have a week before my season starts so I needed to find a way to burn off some energy. Yoop suggested Monkey and I go fishing a little bit at the fishing hole. It sounded like a good idea and he seemed to think so also. Game on.

Monkey and I gathered our fishing stuff, stole the tub of chicken worms and set off to the fishing hole. Surprisingly the heep started right up... guess we weren't the only ones rearing to get out of the house. We made it to the fishing hole in a few minutes, Monkey hoped out of the Heep and ran to the lake. He was about to take a step into the water when I reminded him its not summer and we shouldn't just jump in.

After a few minutes of convincing him that letting him get in the water would get me in hot water with Yoop, he finally gave up and wanted to go fishing. He picked out a nice plump earthworm out of the chicken worm tub. Crazy Yoop has been collecting worms out of the leaf piles behind the house. In her mind the effort is two fold; it will make it easier to find worms to feed the chickens and cheaper than buying worms when Monkey and I go fishing. Gotta love that girl!

I worked Monkeys chosen worm onto his hook, and asked if he wanted to cast it out or if he wanted me too. This is a valid question as he is still working on his casting technique and this was the first time out for the season. He confidently state “I can do it” yanked the pole out of my hand and walked to the water.

When its safe to do so, I like letting people work on there own at learning and perfecting of a skill. So I stepped back and let Monkey do his thing trying to cast the worm out into the lake. At first I expected him to just cast it out half way across the lake using perfect form... he is part Yooper ya know.

As I readied my pole, I watched the young Nimrod out the corner of my eye and he ended up getting my full attention. He readied his rod, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. The worm, hook and bobber ended up on the shore about 20 feet away from us. Not to be deterred he reeled in his line and readied for another attempt.

He again readied his pole, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. This time went a wee bit different than the first. I was looking out into the lake expecting him to place it perfectly along the break where the fish were hanging out on this rather cool windy spring evening. While starring intently at the setting sun, I felt a tap on the back of my shirt. I swatted at it never taking my eyes off suns blinding effects on the lake.

After a few seconds of not seeing the worm, hook and bobber land in the lake, I turned to Monkey and wondered what had happen. His approach and spin seemed to be prefect the second time around. When my eye caught him I realized something was amiss. He had the looked of terror in his eyes.

“Did you hook yourself?” I asked,

“No daddy... I got you!!!”

Instantly, after a few seconds to think what happened, I realized the bump on my back was the chicken worm and hook smacking me after another mis-cast by Monkey.

“Dude.. don't move” I told him.

Turning with his rod while reeling in for another attempt he replies “What?”

“STOP!!!” I squealed, hoping he would comply instantly.

“Daddy, what do you want?” he asked, still turning and reeling.

“Monkey... just stop everything NOW, before you hook Dad instead of a fish.”

“Oh.”

Thinking I finally got his attention I start to carefully move to take the hook out of my shirt. Not one to do thing behind anyone's back, including my own, I quickly realized I was not going to be able to remove the hook while working blindly behind my back.

As I started to take my shirt off, Monkey stated “Dad you can't do that... no one wants to see it.”

“What?” I responded.

“Daddy leave your shirt on, no one wants your shirt off.”

“Its OK, buddy, I have to take it off to get your hook our of my back, or else you won't be able to fish anymore,” I answered, in an attempt to explain the severity of the situation. It didn't seem to help but he put his rod down and walked off to find something to play with near the water.

After I removed the monstrous hook I breathed a sigh of relief. A hair closer and that size 16 hook could have pierced my kidney. But Ole Nimrod is a machine.

We continued fishing until just before dark. Monkey got back in the groove from last year and was making some nice casts. Just before we left I told Monkey the fish must not be hungry tonight.

He replied “No dad, the fish must be sleeping already.”