CATCHIN REDS & MAKIN MEMORIES
The morning sun peeped over the tree line as I anchored about 30 feet from a small rock jetty just off the point of the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama. Reds were running and I was there to see if I could encourage some to run in my direction. As I made my first cast I noticed a man and his two sons walk down from the hotel to the jetty. They carried a couple of ten- cent rods and reels and a plastic bucket with a chunk of frozen shrimp. The seven year old was the first to cast. A fisherman in a hurry he made a quick retrieve and threw again. The sleepy five year old tried but couldn't find the rhythm of the cast and his Dad took over that duty. At the end of six or seven casts the older boy decided that there were no fish and left to go ride his bike. That's when the fun began.
I got my first strike and all sleepiness left the younger brother as he excitedly watched me pull in my first Red. When the boy looked elsewhere I motioned to the Dad to throw his line into my boat and I hooked the Red to it and tossed it overboard. Suddenly the rod in the boy's hand jerked and he jumped as if electrified. Dad! Dad! Dad! I got one! I got one! Although it was touch and go for a moment they managed to catch the fish and put it on a stringer. I caught another and Billy (the boy) said, "Hey, Mister. We're catchin em now!" He was right. I caught three Reds in quick succession. So did Billy. The Dad motioned to me that I didn't need to keep giving up my fish. I wasn't giving up anything though. I was making an investment that was paying handsome dividends in the boy's excitement.
The seven year old returned as his brother was pulling in his fourth fish. Billy tried to show him his stringer of fish, which was bigger and which had fought more, but his brother was having none of it. His only interest was in catching his own. Convinced that the faster he fished the more he would catch he cast and retrieved in practically one motion. He didn't get a hit. Nor did I. The fish were busy elsewhere for the moment. With a disgusted motion he threw down his rod, jumped on his bike, and retired from fishing once again.
As soon as he left I caught another and, while Billy was re-catching that one, I caught two more. The next time his line sailed into my boat I hooked him up with both fish. His Mom came down with a camera and captured his excitement as he and his Dad managed to pull them up on the jetty. He was delighted when I suggested that we call him "Two At A Time Bill". Several more pictures were taken with Billy and his Dad holding up the stringer of fish and me in the background. The Dad suggested that, since they had no place to clean or cook the fish, he give them to me. Two At A Time Bill said, "No, Dad. That man has plenty of fish." He then dropped the fish at the feet of another fisherman. Both Dad and fisherman looked at me and, with a big smile; I gave them the OK sign.
Any day fishing is a good day. Some are better than others. Two At A Time Bill and his family had a fishing story that would be told and retold in years to come. As did I.
The morning sun peeped over the tree line as I anchored about 30 feet from a small rock jetty just off the point of the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama. Reds were running and I was there to see if I could encourage some to run in my direction. As I made my first cast I noticed a man and his two sons walk down from the hotel to the jetty. They carried a couple of ten- cent rods and reels and a plastic bucket with a chunk of frozen shrimp. The seven year old was the first to cast. A fisherman in a hurry he made a quick retrieve and threw again. The sleepy five year old tried but couldn't find the rhythm of the cast and his Dad took over that duty. At the end of six or seven casts the older boy decided that there were no fish and left to go ride his bike. That's when the fun began.
I got my first strike and all sleepiness left the younger brother as he excitedly watched me pull in my first Red. When the boy looked elsewhere I motioned to the Dad to throw his line into my boat and I hooked the Red to it and tossed it overboard. Suddenly the rod in the boy's hand jerked and he jumped as if electrified. Dad! Dad! Dad! I got one! I got one! Although it was touch and go for a moment they managed to catch the fish and put it on a stringer. I caught another and Billy (the boy) said, "Hey, Mister. We're catchin em now!" He was right. I caught three Reds in quick succession. So did Billy. The Dad motioned to me that I didn't need to keep giving up my fish. I wasn't giving up anything though. I was making an investment that was paying handsome dividends in the boy's excitement.
The seven year old returned as his brother was pulling in his fourth fish. Billy tried to show him his stringer of fish, which was bigger and which had fought more, but his brother was having none of it. His only interest was in catching his own. Convinced that the faster he fished the more he would catch he cast and retrieved in practically one motion. He didn't get a hit. Nor did I. The fish were busy elsewhere for the moment. With a disgusted motion he threw down his rod, jumped on his bike, and retired from fishing once again.
As soon as he left I caught another and, while Billy was re-catching that one, I caught two more. The next time his line sailed into my boat I hooked him up with both fish. His Mom came down with a camera and captured his excitement as he and his Dad managed to pull them up on the jetty. He was delighted when I suggested that we call him "Two At A Time Bill". Several more pictures were taken with Billy and his Dad holding up the stringer of fish and me in the background. The Dad suggested that, since they had no place to clean or cook the fish, he give them to me. Two At A Time Bill said, "No, Dad. That man has plenty of fish." He then dropped the fish at the feet of another fisherman. Both Dad and fisherman looked at me and, with a big smile; I gave them the OK sign.
Any day fishing is a good day. Some are better than others. Two At A Time Bill and his family had a fishing story that would be told and retold in years to come. As did I.
