5. The number of good hooks in your tackle box is "just a few" if the fish are biting. With the first catch, the fish will swallow the hook and then you will realize that you only have three hooks left. All of a sudden, you have 735 lead weights of various sizes, one plastic bobber, and one cork bobber with a hunk taken out of it and at least 57 copper looking swivels. While digging through the bait bucket you find an unopened box of rusted and most likely (do not rush to throw away anything) useless fish hooks. So, you cut the line and place the fish on the stringer. You tie on a new hook, install the fattest worn you can find and cast with complete optimism that you will catch another even bigger fish. "Three hooks should do for an entire day" you say out loud not realizing that you just jinxed the entire fishing trip with that proclamation. Suddenly you hook a huge something and you pull and scream. "I got a big one, get the net." Bobby always says, "What net?" You pull hard to drag the beast to the surface and the line comes out of the water. "He must have spit out the hook" except there is no hook on the line. The knot must have slipped and the fish got away. Two hooks left and one of them is so large it must be for shark fishing. This fishing trip has lasted eleven minutes so far and I am down to one hook. "I know!"
6. You will need tackle. No matter how much money you spend on tackle, the box is always empty when you want to go fishing. With the exception of an old piece of hot dog and a three pound lead weight, you need everything. The hot dog looks as good as the day it was bought and may come in handy some afternoon. The three pound triangular shaped weight must have been from that ill-fated surf fishing contest that can be summed up as "Fish -- 5, fisherman --0". That is the one where your dog decided to eat the
Portuguese Man of War and everyone thought he had rabies. You did not have a leash and restrained him with you backup pole with 100lb test line. Everyone kept thinking you hooked your dog. The beach patrol wanted to shoot your rabid pet with a spear gun and oh yeah, dogs are not allowed on the beach. "Hey, is your dog OK or is his head supposed to be that color?" The items you need for going fishing are something to drink, a pole with fishing line, a hook, some bait and a hat. The items you need for catching fish are pole, stringer, hooks, bobbers, different baits, drink, hat and something to sit on other than the ant infested ground. Some people like music, snacks and a friend, girl or otherwise. Even if you are fishing in a boat, keep it simple. I know a guy that takes fresh water tackle; fly tackle, heavy tackle with four kinds of bait to go fishing in a pond. You need a sharp knife with a point. You need to defend yourself against the elements. You are out challenging nature and defending a way of life. A butter knife will not do the trick. Size does not really matter, just as long as you can stick something with it, then you are good to go. Keep the gadgets to a minimum. Toys may be great for talking up a good fishing trip but you do not need them. I saw a lady on a cane pole and bread catch fifty three fish and I was sitting eleven feet away using the same setup and only got sunburn and some mosquito bites.
7. Ants love fishing. At least in Florida, within thirty seconds of you setting up your fishing spot, Satan's friend and constant companion the fire ant will be on your bait, pole or ankle. I not only know that fire ants can jump, I am quite sure they can fly. Once, I saw a fire ant jump from a blade of grass to my ankle when it sounded the attack and his minions simultaneously bit me in the crotch right near "Batman" and "Robin" and on my ear lobe. How did they get there so fast and how do they know where to bite? Even though fish do not have ears, I am quite sure my request for the "Angel of Death to come quickly" scared off every creature for an acre in any direction. Once, I took an old hot dog nub with two hundred or so ants on it and put it on a big ole hook. Those little red buggers do not know who they are fooling with, I thought. I mean, there is no end to my hatred for those red, fear inducing, painful flecks of fire. I gently swung the wienie into the water hoping some giant caviar laden Sturgeon would suck it down, ants and all. After about ten minutes including a short nap, the bobber disappeared and something was enjoying the hot dog with ant sauce and it was something big. The grand fish must have swallowed the hook because while I was napping, those friggin ants had climbed out of the water, up the fishing line back down the pole and were obviously very upset about the swim and were eating the flesh off my hands that were wrapped firmly around the pole. My convulsions yanked the pole, hook, hot dog and some sort of snakehead looking fishzilla out of the water and into the Eucalyptus tree. The snake head fish was more hideous than reported. It was snorting and dangling within inches of my face. I fell back off the five gallon bucket and into some high grass. The ants looked like paratroopers invading Baghdad as they leaped onto my body. I have scars from that fishing trip.
8. Moms do not like cleaning fish. If you want your mother to cook fish for your dinner, you better clean it and make sure you get that little bit of dangly thing in the back of the head. It matters that you rinse it off and put it in a plastic bag also. Disposing properly of the guts and scales is part of "going fishing". My parents had a rule, "if you kill it, you eat it". This went for birds, snakes, fish and any living creature with the exception of lizards. Mom hates lizards and frogs but do not kill them either way because she is not cooking them. Mom may clean and cook your "first" fish but her excitement will quickly turn to "I did not give birth to you so I could be your slave". Some fish you just slice up, or fillet. Others fish you have to drag the guts out and cut off the fins. Clean your own fish. A long time ago I was in a class, (Invertebrate Biology) where we had to dissect a baby shark. The two foot long spiny dog shark (Squalus acanthias) was going to be a chance to learn about animals that do not have bones. Brent, my lab partner was a big old boy and had fits of craziness. He looked in the mouth of the shark and said, Hey, there is a tongue in there. See if you can pull it out." Well, my hand was smaller than his so I put my hand in the sharks mouth. Brent smashed down hard on the shark's head effectively biting into my hand. I let out a yell and tried to pull my hand out. The dog shark came off the table and was waving around like he was alive. While the shark was still attached to my hand,
I grabbed a dissection needle which looks like a nail on the end of a stick and stabbed it through his forearm and into the wooden table. He yelled "he stuck me". I was bleeding, he was bleeding. What a great class. I made Brent dissect the shark while I attended my bite marks.
6. You will need tackle. No matter how much money you spend on tackle, the box is always empty when you want to go fishing. With the exception of an old piece of hot dog and a three pound lead weight, you need everything. The hot dog looks as good as the day it was bought and may come in handy some afternoon. The three pound triangular shaped weight must have been from that ill-fated surf fishing contest that can be summed up as "Fish -- 5, fisherman --0". That is the one where your dog decided to eat the
Portuguese Man of War and everyone thought he had rabies. You did not have a leash and restrained him with you backup pole with 100lb test line. Everyone kept thinking you hooked your dog. The beach patrol wanted to shoot your rabid pet with a spear gun and oh yeah, dogs are not allowed on the beach. "Hey, is your dog OK or is his head supposed to be that color?" The items you need for going fishing are something to drink, a pole with fishing line, a hook, some bait and a hat. The items you need for catching fish are pole, stringer, hooks, bobbers, different baits, drink, hat and something to sit on other than the ant infested ground. Some people like music, snacks and a friend, girl or otherwise. Even if you are fishing in a boat, keep it simple. I know a guy that takes fresh water tackle; fly tackle, heavy tackle with four kinds of bait to go fishing in a pond. You need a sharp knife with a point. You need to defend yourself against the elements. You are out challenging nature and defending a way of life. A butter knife will not do the trick. Size does not really matter, just as long as you can stick something with it, then you are good to go. Keep the gadgets to a minimum. Toys may be great for talking up a good fishing trip but you do not need them. I saw a lady on a cane pole and bread catch fifty three fish and I was sitting eleven feet away using the same setup and only got sunburn and some mosquito bites.
7. Ants love fishing. At least in Florida, within thirty seconds of you setting up your fishing spot, Satan's friend and constant companion the fire ant will be on your bait, pole or ankle. I not only know that fire ants can jump, I am quite sure they can fly. Once, I saw a fire ant jump from a blade of grass to my ankle when it sounded the attack and his minions simultaneously bit me in the crotch right near "Batman" and "Robin" and on my ear lobe. How did they get there so fast and how do they know where to bite? Even though fish do not have ears, I am quite sure my request for the "Angel of Death to come quickly" scared off every creature for an acre in any direction. Once, I took an old hot dog nub with two hundred or so ants on it and put it on a big ole hook. Those little red buggers do not know who they are fooling with, I thought. I mean, there is no end to my hatred for those red, fear inducing, painful flecks of fire. I gently swung the wienie into the water hoping some giant caviar laden Sturgeon would suck it down, ants and all. After about ten minutes including a short nap, the bobber disappeared and something was enjoying the hot dog with ant sauce and it was something big. The grand fish must have swallowed the hook because while I was napping, those friggin ants had climbed out of the water, up the fishing line back down the pole and were obviously very upset about the swim and were eating the flesh off my hands that were wrapped firmly around the pole. My convulsions yanked the pole, hook, hot dog and some sort of snakehead looking fishzilla out of the water and into the Eucalyptus tree. The snake head fish was more hideous than reported. It was snorting and dangling within inches of my face. I fell back off the five gallon bucket and into some high grass. The ants looked like paratroopers invading Baghdad as they leaped onto my body. I have scars from that fishing trip.
8. Moms do not like cleaning fish. If you want your mother to cook fish for your dinner, you better clean it and make sure you get that little bit of dangly thing in the back of the head. It matters that you rinse it off and put it in a plastic bag also. Disposing properly of the guts and scales is part of "going fishing". My parents had a rule, "if you kill it, you eat it". This went for birds, snakes, fish and any living creature with the exception of lizards. Mom hates lizards and frogs but do not kill them either way because she is not cooking them. Mom may clean and cook your "first" fish but her excitement will quickly turn to "I did not give birth to you so I could be your slave". Some fish you just slice up, or fillet. Others fish you have to drag the guts out and cut off the fins. Clean your own fish. A long time ago I was in a class, (Invertebrate Biology) where we had to dissect a baby shark. The two foot long spiny dog shark (Squalus acanthias) was going to be a chance to learn about animals that do not have bones. Brent, my lab partner was a big old boy and had fits of craziness. He looked in the mouth of the shark and said, Hey, there is a tongue in there. See if you can pull it out." Well, my hand was smaller than his so I put my hand in the sharks mouth. Brent smashed down hard on the shark's head effectively biting into my hand. I let out a yell and tried to pull my hand out. The dog shark came off the table and was waving around like he was alive. While the shark was still attached to my hand,
I grabbed a dissection needle which looks like a nail on the end of a stick and stabbed it through his forearm and into the wooden table. He yelled "he stuck me". I was bleeding, he was bleeding. What a great class. I made Brent dissect the shark while I attended my bite marks.
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