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Crappie Wall Hanger II
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My Daddy started me fishing in 1964 when I was 3 years old. I haven't let up in the 53 years since. He was into fly fishing for trout when he was younger and he used to tie flys professionally for Herter's. He taught me to tie my own flys when I was 7 or 8. I still remember the first bass I caught on a yellow streamer I tied. That bass looked 10 pounds when he jumped right in front of me...he was more like 2 pounds really. I wanted to keep him, but Daddy said he'd get bigger if he got the chance. It didn't make sense to me at the time, but I get it now.
We had an old rowboat that we fished from, but mostly we'd fish off the bank. I think it was easier for Daddy not to compound little kids & fishing in a confined space. One day, we were walking down the bank of the creek we were fishing and came up on a big snapping turtle. I was sure that thing was going to eat me. Daddy kept saying for me to come on and that turtle wasn't going to hurt me. The way it kept hissing made me sure it wanted me for supper. Daddy walked back past it and picked me up to carry me past that turtle.
The family would go camping at the lake and they'd only ever have to go as far as the water's edge to find me. I'd fish from before sunrise to past sundown, if they'd let me. Once, we were camping in the mountains by a spot where a stream ran into a river (can't remember which) and I figured out that the trout had run up the stream and were in some of the deeper holes. I caught some nice rainbows and browns and had them on a metal stringer staked in a shallow riffle between the deeper holes. I heard a rustle in the bushes behind me and thought it was my Daddy coming to get me for supper. It turned out to be a black bear that smelled my fish and stole the stringer. I ran back towards camp and passed Daddy was walking down the path to get me. I didn't even slow down, just hollered BEAR! and kept going. The bear was a long ways behind going the other way and already had what he wanted.
I couldn't talk Daddy into fishing much once I was into my teens. I took him out on my bass boat a few times when I was in my 30s, but the fishing bug had left him. I still owe him for the lifetime of education, fun, and adventure I've drawn from fishing that he introduced me to. I'm a long ways from done too!
Jim
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My father farmed and he felt like you needed to have a little fun almost everyday, so we fished and/or hunted, as much as possible. Very few weeks have passed without me going fishing. Don't hunt any more. I am almost 70 and still fish every week. Thanks to my Dad.
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I've noticed the same thing on almost every post, MY DAD, OF MY GRAND DAD got me started. Wish I could've started that way.
smiles are contagious, spread them around
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Dad got me started with a cane pole, catgut line, weed worms, catwaba worms, red worms .We fished from the bank and had one of the old metal stringers that we had to watch for turtles when we put fish on it. He is gone now but those old days will always be forever burned in my memory. Thank you Dad for taking me fishing
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Great thread and great stories. For me it was my dad who planted the seed, but it was my grandma who nurtured it early on. Me and my brother spent the summers with my grandmother (a widower) while my mom and dad worked. She would drive us out a few days a week to what we called the sandpit by Grenada Lake or we would fish the old river run and spillway from time to time. She had a particular spot at the sandpit, it was the only point on the small lake, she could have moved 200 feet either way and been fishin' in the shade, but she wasn't having it. She would sit there and plain wear out some catfish with nothing but a cane pole and chicken livers. Meanwhile, my brother and I influenced by the likes of Dance, Parker, Houston etc.. were on the bass thing hot and heavy. We would wear our feet plumb out walking around the pit chucking spinners, buzz baits and fishing plastic worms. We got skunked a lot, never remember my grandma leaving empty handed. She caught em, we cleaned em, she cooked em, was a great system. Still can't figure out how long that cane pole was, she drove a 78 Chrysler New Yorker and it was as long as the car I bet ya...
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My granddaddy spent a lot time hauling me around the oxbow lakes of ms and la while momma and daddy were working. Now Mrs williams who's 91 and I, are planting the seeds in my 3 girls.
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Slabmaster II
Who Planted the Fishing Seed in Your Life?
My dad started taking me around 4. I could hardly hold the pole. He's been gone 8years and I miss him every time I go fishing. I know he is up there saying set that hook son.
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Don't know how I got started fishing.my dad wasn't a fisherman my 3 older brothers were in world war two at the time. I was maybe 3 or 4, started with a bent wire for a hook and a piece of sewing thread and willow pole.fished a creek by our house for sun and cat fish.have been hooked ever since.have been lucky enough to have fished with some of the best bass fishermen in the Bass and flw tournament circuit .today its crappie,walleye and muskie .the muskie just won't stay off the lures when walleye fishing.
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my best friends dad took us out when we were boys and started me, didn't take in his son. My dad just worked, didn't do much else so I just took it up on my own, fishing in january wabash park in Ferguson for lil sunfish and I mean tiny, with just line and hook in my hand under rr ties along shore. then farm pond at grandma's neighbor/cousin where I hooked into some HUGE bass and I was hooked. Been doing it and hunting ever since. Now crappie's my game!
Slabmaster II
Looks like a lot of grandpa's helped start a lot of you guys fishing, I never got to see either of my grandpa's they both died before I was born, and I never new of my dad ever going fishing, I guess I can call him what I remember him for and that was a drunk, if he had a long neck adult beverage in his hand, he was happy, my grandmother was left with 7 kids at the age of 36 when my grandpa was killed in a coal mine, and man did that little woman like to fish, and she was the one that took me fishing in the late 50's I was about 4 years old I think, we would dig worms, well I remember her digging the worms and she would let me pick them up and put them in a can, we fished with cane poles and the worms we dug, this creek ran pas her house and we would walk up the creek bank looking for a deeper pool of water to fish, I remember my grandmother using her heel to kick a hole in the clay mud bank, for me to place my feet in as I sat right beside her, she would always swing her bait in and catch it and tell me to always be sure to spit on my worm before dropping it in the creek, we would catch bluegill and a small catfish now and then, I remember she would make a stringer for the fish we caught from a limber limb from a nearby bush, she would leave only one short limb next to the end of the long limb, and run the long end through the fish's gills and drop it in the water and stick the other end in the bank and it held them good, we would keep all we caught and place them on the stringer and carry them home using the limb stringer, she died when I was 12 and that was the first heartbreak I ever had, and that was the first time I ever tried talking to God, I remember going behind her house and crying and praying to God the best I new how. Sorry for the long rant, but it's been a while sense i have thought of some of the things my grandmother and me did together, it's funny how the ones we love are the ones that breaks our hearts,
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