Anna, my granddaughter was one of my favorite fishing partners. We had shared many a happy moment on the waters. She loved to fish and spend time with her grandfather. We began fishing together when she was very young. Her parents had become divorced when she was an infant. She loved to visit the farm and ride on the tractor. The sights and sounds of the rural setting appealed to her and put her at ease. Popping fire crackers and fishing off of the pier down by the pond were her favorite past times. We stayed close to the area ponds because of the safety afforded by them. The bigger lakes in the region offered no allure or satisfaction to us. I had fished the larger lakes and had finally sold my large boat because of friction on the lakes caused by water skiers and out of control intoxicated drivers of flying hunks of metal traveling at speeds of 70 miles per hour or better. The still waters suited us better and we were much safer on them. My 45 could stay in its holster and not have the need to be called out by out of control people bent on assault. Anna was a natural angler. She caught fish when I could not. She had a natural toughness that out lasted my ability to hang with her on many occasions. The wintry days on the pond when the temperature had dropped and the wind was howling in almost gale force proportions prompted me to quit long before she was ready to call it a day. She never wanted to go home on our angling trips. I bought her a tackle box and began to fill it with hooks and weights and all of the other fishing paraphernalia that the area tackle shops had in stock. I offered to buy lures to accompany her other tackle. I let her loose in the store. She came back with lures of all the same color. I asked her why she had made that choice and she told me that she based her choice on the fact that pink was her favorite color. Pink was good. She caught many fish on that color variation. She caught bream and perch. On the bigger fish I had to help her reel the fish into our possession. She was not afraid of the dark and barely blinked an eye at the approach of the snakes that inhabited the waters. I tried to keep the snake population to a minimum because of the fact that children played and fished in proximity to the pond. When I fired at a copperhead that was swimming scant feet away from her, her only comment was whether I had connected or not. She has grown into other activities. Baton and baseball fill her days. If I ever need a solid fishing partner she is the person that I will call. Neither sun, wind or uncomfortable circumstances will slow her down. My only complaint is the fact that she usually out fishes me on every occasion. I think that I can live with that. |
