Fishing – A Home Run Every Time

January 31, 2009 by admin

By Doug Leier

A view of the long-standing tracks outside Valley City

I hung up the phone on a Sunday evening and thought to myself. Is it really this easy to enjoy a day of bass fishing?

Planning the morning excursion I called Nick and he assured me all I needed was a supply of quarter-ounce jigs and assorted colors of twister tails. Gradually it came back to me – this passion called fishing and why I’ll take angling over baseball, hands down.

Everyone has their own reason for spending time outdoors. You make it what you want. If I wanted to spend the day fighting crowds, I’d travel to Minneapolis and take in a Twins baseball game.

But on this day, I was looking for a morning connecting with nature, listening to the robins, and watching pelicans, turtles and an array of bugs stirring nature’s pot. I didn’t want to sit next to an intoxicated loudmouth professing his knowledge of the suicide squeeze and the shortcomings of the manager for not using it.

I wanted to talk about fish, fish and fish some more. I wanted to watch my buddy Brad chomp a few hot and spicy pork rinds at 10 in the morning. I didn’t care if the pitcher was set to become a free agent next year and was posturing for another big contract. I was more interested in finding out who offered the best buy on lures this year. The new guy playing catcher didn’t at all peak my interest, in my tackle box was hiding the secret weapon the new gulp bait, which was said to out fish live bait (it did).

That’s what fishing is all about. The quarry was smallmouth bass on the Sheyenne River, and the outing brought together three generations of anglers, each from a different zip code and distinct background. The common denominator: we all loved the outdoors.

Before that day we had never spent five minutes together, but we enjoyed four hours in Nick’s boat chasing smallies. Name another activity which could bridge the generational gap with the ease of a short pitch of my Shakespeare rod. Few casts were made without a crack about our fishing prowess, or in my case lack thereof.

I wasn’t on the water to see who caught the first fish, the biggest one or even who had the neatest gizmo. Nonetheless, I was on the edge of my seat when Nick’s hammer-handle pike broke the plane of darkened waters.

Smallmouth breaking the water's surface

In similar fashion, Nick sprang from his seat as I hooked a bass. His burst would’ve put him on top of a third base bunt faster than any ball player around. That’s why I spent this post-card-worthy morning on the scenic Sheyenne, and not fighting traffic in some metro area.

It was fairly evident as the morning wore that the fish were about as cooperative as that guy sitting behind you at the baseball game with his knee pushing into your back. Even though the fishing was cold, the conversation took us to other spring fishing outings and plans for summer excursions. It didn’t matter that I knew more about nuclear physics than my partner’s life history. What was important was each angler was smiling and for their own reason.

Brad was enjoying a day out of the office exploring new waters. For Nick, an excruciating week of finals and college graduation just days before were already distant memories, judging by the all-fish attitude.

Turtle chilling on the Sheyenne

Suffice it to say few of us would likely sit down and enjoy a bag of pork rinds at a ball game, what with modern day ball park culinary choices impressing even French chefs. But on this day the communal pork rind bag was emptied in a matter of minutes. And unlike cheering for the home team, nobody took a bite just to be polite. It’s chalked up as part of the experience.

If you’ve never taken a day to just go fishing, now is the time. Unless of course you’d rather stay indoors when the sun is shining and the turtles are napping on a stump. I’ll see ya out there.