Family Post: Birth of an Angler

My grandson Sebastian was with us over the weekend. It was high time to load up with worms and supplies and go fishing again.

You might recall that on his first trip we didn't catch anything, and Sebastian fell in the lake. I wondered whether that might dampen his enthusiasm for this trip. No worries. He was eager to get his hands on his fishing rod again.

This time the dock was free, and bluegills were back in numbers, schooling in its shadow. We baited up and Sebastian went to work. It wasn't long before he caught his very first fish ever. Let the record show that he achieved this milestone at three years of age. Way to go, kid.

He threw it back in himself, and went back to work again, and, yep, caught another one. (Thanks, bluegills.) He tried to throw this one in, too, but he discovered those needle-like spines in a gill's dorsal fin, and decided throwing fish back in was Grandpa's job.

Catching them was his job, and catch them he did. I didn't keep count, but I'd say it was seven or eight. Maybe more. He was a fishing machine.

(I think he takes after his Mom, my daughter Lidia. She used to fish with me at Trout Lake, and did very well, including a 20+ inch Rainbow caught on a little caddis dry. My hope is to get her and Sebastian to Trout Lake for some fishing from the canoe. Can't wait for him to catch a trout.)

I decided we should try another lake where he might be able to graduate to bigger bluegills. We got there and set up on a canal where my son Jeremiah and I used to have luck. As I was baiting the rod Sebastian discovered what Jeremiah had discovered before him: there are lots of good rocks here to throw in the water.

I cast the bait out into likely spots, but we got nary a bite. So we moved down to where the canal enters the lake and tried there. No bites here, either. But Sebastian didn't care. It was a hot day, and there was a perfect place for wading. So first his shoes and socks and jeans came off.

Then his shirt. Someday he will be able to say truthfully that he's been fishing since he was in diapers.

Finally everything came off and he was Mowgli by the jungle watering hole. (Jeremiah, in his day, went in at this exact spot.)

Meanwhile, nothing was biting. It was finally time to go. He really didn't want to leave, so I promised him we'd go fishing again the next day.

And we did. We went back to the dock, ate some lunch (say "Cheese!") and then offered some lunch to the bluegills.

Sebastian knew just how to do it.

Bingo.

The smile says it all. I think the population of anglers has definitely increased by one.