Lately, I’ve been taking the kids fishing on the Charles. One of the benefits of my by-now-long-forgotten jogging regimen is that I was able to scope out some nice fishing spots. You wouldn’t normally think to look behind your supermarket, and yet, at least where I live, you’d be surprised by what you find back there.
The Preschooler has his own little fishing pole with an easy push-button reel and a bobber. I think we got it at Target. For bait, we use hot dogs from the conveniently located grocery store. We stand on a dock or the riverbank, plunk it in, and just wait for something to happen. And when nothing does, we resort to watching the cormorants sun themselves, counting ducklings, and looking for turtles. We catch nothing, but I don’t really care because it’s fun.
Sometimes I use Husband’s fancy-schmancy fishing rod and cast out with a lure, reeling it in with a rhythm that mimics nothing in nature, and praying to God that I don’t get the line tangled up in something, as I’m wont to do. Then, I’d have no choice but to cut the line, and I have no idea how to rig that thing back up again so Husband won’t notice that I’ve been messing with his stuff.
Husband is the fisherman in the family, having fished with his grandfather since he was a kid. Years ago, he offered to teach me how to fish and I could barely contain myself. Fishing seemed like the perfect activity for me. You can get lost in your thoughts for hours at a time while still getting credit for doing something productive. Plus, you get to be outside, and, if you’re lucky, you’ll end up with dinner.
But bad things happen when spouses try to teach each other anything. God forbid we actually learn something from one another at this point in our marriage. For example, I should be learning how to listen carefully and follow instructions, instead of doing what I damn well please. Meanwhile, he should be learning how to be patient, but at the same time not be condescending, which, apparently, is very difficult to do. We always end up driving home in a huff.
However, the whole family went fishing last weekend at Spy Pond in Arlington. The kids had a blast wading in the most-likely-quite-unsanitary water, Husband caught a couple of fish, and I caught my first. See? I can learn things. So, yesterday, I brought the kids back to the banks of the Charles with my newfound confidence, and guess how many fish we caught?
THIRTEEN! Twelve sunfish and a bass. All were dehooked and released (I’m not eating any Charles River fish). The kids are going to get entirely the wrong idea about fishing, but we still had the best time.
Throwing the fish back is probably for the best. I once fell into the Charles River right by Community Boating (my husband and I were kayaking and he tried to show me how kayaks don't tip... they do). Nothing happened as a result, but I was majorly grossed out. Not too long ago, the Charles River was considered thoroughly polluted... I guess recently it got a better review.
Posted by: Sandicita | June 21, 2008 at 07:28 AM
Aw, man... The fish hate that!
What would The Farmer say if you led a steer to the slaughtering shed, only to unhook it at the last minute?
Posted by: cookiecrumb | June 21, 2008 at 08:29 PM
Are you *sure* you didn't just catch one monumentally stupid sunfish 12 times?? Hee! I once caught a sunfish by just dipping a net with a whole piece of bread into the water. I did it as a joke, and that sucker swam right in! I think sunfish must be at the bottom of the fish-intelligence scale!
Sounds like y'all had fun!
Posted by: What A Card | June 21, 2008 at 10:01 PM
"But bad things happen when spouses try to teach each other anything."
Truer words were never spoken. I'm only really good at shooting because of Steve's best friend. They're both expert marksmen, but god forbid I let Steve teach me. ;)
Posted by: melissa | June 21, 2008 at 11:30 PM
Fabulous photo!
Posted by: Ann | June 22, 2008 at 08:55 AM
Ann: Thanks. Surprising considering I had to do it one-handed.
Melissa: That's very smart. You wouldn't want a marital spat to turn into a gunfight. It gets ugly enough between Husband and I with those little hooks.
Whatacard: That's true. Maybe the water quality is affecting their fish brain development. Or maybe a hot dog is the single most delicious thing those sunfish have come across in their life span so it's totally worth it.
CC: If the Farmer ever came across me with one of the cows hooked on my fishing pole, then that would be just about par for the course.
Sandicita: I used to row in college in that water and it was pretty horrifying. Here's what the EPA has to say these days: http://yosemite.epa.gov/opa/admpress.nsf/6d651d23f5a91b768525735900400c28/6146011fdd43622985257436005616ba!OpenDocument
Still, I'm not eating any Charles River fish.
Posted by: Tammy | June 22, 2008 at 09:41 PM
gross! The fish eat hotdogs? They probably love baseball too.
Posted by: sunny12 | June 23, 2008 at 10:10 AM
I've always felt, as the bumper sticker says, that a bad day fishing is better than a good day making carrot halvah. By the way, anybody up for some catch-and-release hunting?
Posted by: Barry Foy | June 23, 2008 at 10:13 AM
Barry: These are not pretty images I have in my head right now. And that was just the halvah.
Sunny12: When in Boston...
Posted by: Tammy | June 23, 2008 at 10:36 PM