Part of the fun of fishing with my dad was that we never used lures, we always used live bait. He'd bring worms, minnows and crickets each and every time. I don't remember how old I was, I couldn't have been more than eight or ten, even so, I never could get used to getting those worms or minnows on that hook, it took several lessons, but I eventually got the hang of it. Then after many tries, I got to where I could cast my little red and white bobber pretty far. But then the hardest part of all, waiting for the fish to bite.
Back then, I didn't know much at all about fishing or how to catch a fish. All I knew was what my dad taught me. When the bobber starts moving up and down in the water, get ready. When it goes under you pull and start reeling. Nine times out of ten that logic seemed to work for me, and boy was it exciting to hook a fish. I always got too excited and would yell, "I got one!" Then my mom would always tell me not to scare the fish. I always remember the fish I would catch seemed to be much smaller than everyone else's. But I didn't care how big or small, I just enjoyed catching one.
Then there's the one that got away. I remember watching my bobber time and time again go under the water and time and time again, the fish would get my bait. My dad tried to help me catch it after about the fifth time and finally I had him hooked, he was a big one all right! So big, it broke my line. Talk about excitement, I bet I could be heard all the way across the river. It had to be a big fish, because my dad even changed reels with me so I could try it again using a stronger line. A few minutes later, it happened again. I hooked him and he still broke my line. I remember my dad saying it had to be a big ol' catfish or something to break that line. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to reel him in before it was time for us to go. But every time we went back that was the goal for me. To catch that big one that got away. I nicknamed him Samson.
Now that I'm older, my husband and I enjoy going fishing. We try to go often. I still get excited when I hook a big one, and I try not to yell, but sometimes it can't be helped. I've caught many different types of fish and I have lots of stories of the one that got away. But none will ever top the story of Samson when my dad took us fishing at his "secret fishing spot".
I will catch him one of these days.