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 (David LaPuma )
Why I fish
NOVEMBER 25, 2005By Rick Fowler, HappyNews Citizen JournalistAt 5:00 a.m. on a Michigan body of water—be it a lake, river, stream or pond—a visitor can be inundated with a myriad of sounds. The slow, rhythmic, lap of waves reaching the shore after a night of travel is indeed soothing early in the morning. The solitude allows me to think back of a tale told to me at a young age. The story goes that a little wave was so distraught after reaching the sand that he broke down in tears fearing he would be no more. Until others responded, "Little wave, you are just part of the big ocean!" The little wave then trickled back into the sea to start yet another journey. Stories from the past are why I fish. The plops of fish on calm waters in the early morning make an angler’s heart race. The head turns quickly in an attempt to see what it was that raised so quickly and, like an Olympic diver, reenter with only splash rings remaining, spreading like oil on the water. In fact, when the boat engine is cut or the paddles raised, the serenity of a moment like this is spine tingling. Witnessing the breakfast of a variety of species is why I fish. With a headlamp, waders, rod, small tackle box and bait, I descend the muddy bank of my favorite river. The eastern sky is lit brightly with an easel of colors, making my climb down to the waters edge flash light free. The squish and clomp of my wading boots seem to be twenty decibels higher than they need to be. As I approach, there is an eerie screech reverberating from the tree line. The Blue Heron's hollering momentarily blocks out the roar of the rushing water. Alone on a river, witnessing the creatures who live in or near it is why I fish. The finger pier is empty of anglers on this particular morning. Many fishermen will be approaching the mouth soon to test their skill against the steelies that are now making their way in. The rapid flow of water cascades down boulders forming a chaotic scene as it bubbles back up. My line remains steady in the calm water beyond the little falls. I remember not too many years ago bringing my two children here. Armed with fishing gear, Barbies and GI Joes, we had claimed our spot. Amid the yelps of lucky fishermen and those who weren't so lucky, I heard the laughter of my kids. Today, even though both are teenagers, I can still get them to "wet a line" with me. It is because of these memories that I fish. Every so often I feel like the little wave that thought his purpose was gone when he reached the sandy shore. However, the memories, the stories, the sights that a morning offers keep me trickling back to the waters I fish in. I have this sense that if I don't, it will be the end of something. This is why I fish.
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