Saturday’s kayak excursion delivered one very nice largemouth (see below), a mess of panfish, a lot of paddling and a chance to see one of the two resident bald eagles that patrol the south end of the lake and the river. I managed to get these shots of the eagle before my phone crapped the bed.
There was something in the mythology or attitude or presence of that bird that was tremendously empowering and settling at the same time. He was a talisman, a force of nature, an entire nation perched and vigilant. But he was a fellow fisherman as well, with the patience of time…confident in the fortune of instinct. It didn’t matter if I caught a single fish at that point. I was happy to simply be sharing the same circle of existence.
We wrapped up the evening with wings, burgers and some barley pops. After I got home and unloaded my gear, I crawled into bed and fell asleep with thoughts of the boys fighting scrappy Father’s Day bass dancing in my head.
The next morning arrived bright and early…the kids descending on me with PJs, bed-head and handmade cards and crafts. I hadn’t even barely put a foot on the floor next to my bed when the conversation turned to:
When are we fishin’ dad?
How many minutes till we go?
Can I go get my tackle box from the barn?
Oh yea…mom got BACON for breakfast!
Father’s Day isn’t Father’s Day without bacon for breakfast.
After church and a couple small chores around the house, the boys and I were off to catch bass. The ladies elected to stay and enjoy the pool, and some peace and quiet.
I had mentioned that the bass ponds on my in-law’s property are easy pickin’s. I don’t think I mentioned that the ponds are on their golf course. Bass fishing with my boys on a golf course on a blue-bird, Father’s Day afternoon. Like Old Milwaukee, it just doesn’t get any better than this. We loaded the gear on a golf cart, waving to foursomes and smiles and shouts of Good luck! as we made our way back to the pond at hole #3.
My youngest, Jonah, struck green first. His first full-size rod and reel, and his first bass. When he had backed the fish safely on the grass, he let loose some fist pumps like he just boated a tarpon…or won the Masters. Cam quickly followed suit with his first fish of the afternoon.
A few Gatorades and a few hours later, Jonah finished with 6 or 7 fish. Cam was not far behind. The sun was still high. Golfers were stopping to watch and clap for hook-ups. The boys were rock stars. We called it a day, grabbed a couple red-hots at the clubhouse and hit the road.