
He didn’t catch a single fish.
His older brother caught fish. His cousins caught fish. His dad caught fish.
Although he wanted to catch fish, he was happy to just be in the water. And although I did catch fish, I’m happy that makes him happy.
His rod is about two feet long. It has only two guides and is about as stiff as they come. The tiny spincasting reel works about 70% of the time. If I’ve got the right marabou jig on there, he can whip it out a good fifteen feet. Assuming the reel engages before the jig nestles into the lake bottom muck, he’s got a good chance at panfish or pickerel.
Or, he can lay on the dock and use the rod to attempt to stab minnows. That probably isn’t going to work, but he is happy doing it.
Seeing as fighting with equipment and skewering cagey baitfish doesn’t yield a lot of fast-paced action, there are other forms of entertainment on the water. I don’t think many fly fishers are aware how fun it is to throw handfuls of sand into the lake for hours. With all the stealth that angling requires, I bet that few adults appreciate the sensation of running headlong into the lake over and over again. Patrolling the beach as a life guard, and informing everyone in earshot as much, is about as good as it gets.









