The art and skill of fishing has a long and storied history with uncountable individuals who have supported themselves and sustained others with their trade. Even such a personage as Saint Peter was beseeched by Christ to apply his angling skills to become a fisher of men, and he is still venerated almost two thousand years later for reeling in the faithful. In the pre-Christian era, as now, coastal peoples in all cultures utilize the vast aquatic resources, both freshwater and saltwater. The challenges are so many and varied that the vocation became an avocation to those with spare time or the need for available protein.
Many of us of a certain vintage (pre-video game) who spent our summer day at one end of an inexpensive spinning reel or cane pole have great appreciation of the techniques developed over many millennia. The few of us who read Izaac Walton’s tome, which detailed the tools and practices of 17th century fishermen, have obsessed even more over the techniques for landing a fish. In short, nothing has changed much in the last 300 years except that manufacturing has made the necessary equipment readily available as opposed to making it yourself.
Bait is a good example. No doubt many of today’s entomologists had their professional genesis in hours spent securing worms and insects to use as bait for a daytrip to a pond or river. The behavior of these tiny creatures must be understood to be able to capture them and keep them alive long enough to impale on a needle-sharp hook before plunging it into the murky depths, hopefully to be swallowed by a leviathan of legal length.
Today’s fishermen, fisherwomen and fisherkids (when pried away from their devices) can easily avoid barbaric treatment of terrestrial arthropods with a quick trip to the sporting good store or a big box retail establishment. The carbon footprint notwithstanding, there are an amazing array of synthetic snack enticements for the unsuspecting aquatic residents. All that is needed is cash or a credit card.
Still with the contemporary two household incomes lifestyle, it is difficult to find time to drown a few worms or crickets while reliving pleasurable childhood memories. This was the situation I found myself in when my wife, Lulu, and I were visiting her parent’s coastal residence.
While sitting at the end of their dock and enjoying a cup of decaf coffee and the sunset, she gazed into my eyes inquisitively and asked, “Pennrod, why have I never seen you fishing? Don’t you like fishing?”
An interesting inquiry after 15 years of marriage. While we knew each other for ten years before wedding, there are always details from the past which are buried in the mist of time. After all, how does one explain the brutal practices of baiting hooks (and other questionable actions not included here) of the past to one’s eternal soulmate?
“Yes, my dear” I responded, “I like to fish”. Knowing I need to provide more details, and feeling my manliness in question, I continued. “As a matter of fact, fish would jump on the bank with the hope of being caught by me.”
The gaze abruptly changed to a stare. “What?” I asked in my sincerest voice.
“You’re full of it,” she skeptically replied. Clearly, no faith in my masculine survival skills or veracity.
The conversation continued, but on much less contentious subjects. The stars, however, had aligned to refocus the discussion on the authenticity of my fishing skills and the accuracy of my claims. In the middle of analyzing the ability of the legislature to make intelligent enactment, a large mullet jumped on the dock at our feet. Not missing a beat, I said in earnest, “See, fish can’t resist me.”
“I have no doubt of that fact,” she retorted as she stood and looked over the edge of the dock. “Who did you pay to throw that fish up here?” I grabbed the flopping fish as she asked, “Let’s see you do that again.”
“I’d better not, I don’t have a fishing license and game wardens patrol this area.” I replied.
“Are you going to throw it back?” she questioned.
“Heavens no, this is dinner,” and I started for the house to get a knife. After all, we can have a discussion about legislation any day.
I cleaned and filleted the mullet, and she marinated it with a concoction of herbs, seasoning and lemon juice. Taking it out of the oven, the pleasant aroma matched the white, flakey fillets still bubbling slightly as they finished cooking. Being a gentleman and loving my wife unconditionally, I offered her the choice of the culinary delights provided by random fate.
“I’m not eating any,” she said firmly.
“Why, it’s perfectly good and exceptionally fresh,” I replied somewhat mystified.
“It looked at me, so I can’t eat it. It just isn’t right,” she said turning away from the two fillets.
“Well, it looked at me and I was holding the knife,” I said while scooping the fillets to my plate. And they were delicious. I guess it’s good we never raised a steer or hog. No doubt I’d be eating a lot of beef or pork alone, and likely my cholesterol level would be in the four-digit range. One good point came out of this event, at least she now believes I’m as attractive to fish as I am to her.
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