By Sunday afternoon, my wife and I had all of our weekend projects done. It seems there are always things that have to be accomplished and only so much time to do them. We were both wearing down, almost to the point of hitting the couch and watching a football game when I suggested we go fishing.
My wife is not a real football fan. Though being almost too tired to move another step, going fishing sounded better to her than watching football.
On the way to the lake, we stopped to check on the progress at our son's house. Damon was still mowing, Amanda was still doing laundry, but Zane had finished cleaning his room. To a six year old, cleaning a bedroom is a full day's work. He was tired and ready for a break. When we asked if he would like to go fishing with us, he jumped at the chance.
The sun was dropping behind the oak-covered hillside by the time we headed out into the lake. The air was calm, causing the lake to be as smooth as glass and mist was starting to roll along the edges of the water. The temperature and wind conditions were perfect for a relaxing late afternoon fishing trip.
I put on a new lure from a package I received from my older son. It looked like a fuzzy crappie or bluegill jig only it was about four time's the normal size. They are made for some sort of saltwater fishing, perhaps speckled trout. I am not sure what a person is supposed to catch but I started catching crappie almost immediately. Neither my wife nor Zane were getting so much as a bite. They switched lures about every three or four casts, but to no avail.
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I was pulling in some nice crappie and a few bass in the one- to two-pound range. I was not getting any great fish, but much to the dismay of my fishing partners, I was catching fish.
Zane was the first to ask, "Grandpa, can I use one of your lures?" Not a problem. I had several and they had to work better for him than everything he had already tried. After I caught a couple more fish, my wife also wanted to borrow one of the magical lures. I kept catching fish and they kept on not catching anything. It was very strange that the lure would work so well for me and so poorly for them.
We had been fishing for almost an hour when Zane's busy day and lack of fishing action caught up with him. He laid his pole in the boat and reclined on the live well. If not for the uncomfortable position his life jacket caused his neck to be, he would have been asleep in seconds. My wife was next to give up on fishing. She told me to continue fishing, since I was doing so well, but I could tell; her heart was no longer in the game.
We cruised silently along the edge of the lake, making a long leisurely arch back toward the dock. It was a pleasant evening for a boat ride but most of us were getting too tired to continue. I was the only one ready to fish all night. Usually my wife catches two fish to my one. I have even been out-fished by Zane. When a person is on a roll, it is hard to give up and go home.
Walter Scott is an outdoors enthusiast and freelance writer from Bloomfield, Iowa.
