Is a bad day of fishing really better than a good day at the office?
This was the question on my mind the other day. Seeing that I had a tiny bit of extra time on my hands, I decided to go fishing the other day, I thought it might help clear my head so that I can put things in my life in perspective and figure out my next steps forward.
So I packed up all the gear, and the plan was to leave early the next morning. Then we got some rain throughout the night. Now no amount of rain will keep a headstrong fisherman away from the water, but along with the rains came huge floods of flying ants and other insects which meant that the fish ate their fill long before I got to throw a line in.
Once I reached the fishing spot, I set up all the gear and cast a few lines, the insects still drifting along the water's surface, I could see the fish feasting as the hours passed - but alas, no bites. The dam was thoroughly stocked with tilapia, catfish, and carp (sadly no bass, which is my favorite to catch as far as freshwater fish goes). And I had a line in the water for all of them.
Later that afternoon, I decided to call it a day, I reeled in all the stagnant lines, and decided on one last cast with the tilapia rod.
It was only when I reeled in for the last time that I felt a tiny nudge on the line as it reached the shore. I jerked the line back out of curiosity and the hook line and float came flying past my head, as I looked back to where it had fallen I realized that I had actually caught a fish. The very first fish for the day, and it was the smallest catfish that I had ever seen to date!
It turned out that this little guy wasn't even caught on the hook, he was just flung out of the water by the sudden jerk on the line while he was biting down on whatever was left of the worm on the hook.
It sure is a good thing that this fishing trip was not based on the need for food and survival, because if that were the case I would be screwed for sure!
I had a good mind to bring the little guy home and put him in the fish tank, but that was just a momentary thought and I decided to release the little fella instead... live to fight another day and all that.
So with nothing to show for the day's efforts except sunburnt skin and muddy toes. I packed all the kit back onto the truck and headed home with my tail between my legs. The mind was no clearer than what it was before I came, with no miraculous epiphanies, and certainly no answers.
Just a fraction of time shared between myself and a tiny catfish away from all the troubles that waited back home.
I guess we strive for the moments in between, small victories are victories nonetheless.
Any victory is a good victory!
I used to tell a joke about a one-armed fisherman who would brag about the fish he caught that was "this big" (holding one hand up). The joke is a little lost in text, but funny as all hell to me.
hahaha I think I have heard.... urm I mean seen that one :D