When I spoke to John at the Goose Hummock Shop in early April and expressed that both I and advertising sales manager Mike Hachey wanted to drive out for their Kid’s Fishing Day, I didn’t know what to expect. Since I’m married to an elementary school art teacher, you can imagine the thoughts that went through my mind!
As the day drew near, the weather wasn’t looking good, and with rain pelting down as I woke, I checked the Goose’s social media, the event was still on! We arrived 45 minutes early and the lot was already jammed. Parents and grandparents, led kids of all ages down to the sandy beach at Flax Pond. As I walked down the picketed shoreline, I saw it all, from a curly-haired 3-year-old, teetering on the edge of a tantrum to a trio of brothers wading into the water to land what was already their second trout. “We just need a rainbow to complete the trifecta!” I heard one of them exclaim as they admired their 13-inch brookie. I saw wide-eyed Nova-Marie, standing proudly with her dad after she landed a legit monster yellow perch. And I saw the aftermath of one kid’s wild casting attempt that ricocheted a slip sinker off of one volunteer’s head! It was quite clear that it didn’t feel great!
You may have heard me describe a feeling I often detect in the air that I typically compare to a vibration or electricity, this – I believe – is linked to a collective consciousness, a connectivity that spontaneously exists when a large group of people (or animals or fish) suddenly focuses their energy on one thing. It’s most apparent at something like a playoff game, and it was very much alive and percolating at this event. But there was such a deep ripple of innocence, wonder and non-judgmental joy that seasoned this feeling and it was hard not to feel 10 years old. Immediately, I went from just being “present” among all these kids to feeling this itchy sweater of adulthood lift off my shoulders and I just listened to the voices and heard my own echoes still hanging in the atmosphere 35 to 40 years in the past.
I stopped to talk to a group of kids with their grandfather, the girl Madeline, had just landed a perch and I wanted to take a photo for the magazine. Their friend Logan, seizing the opportunity, lipped a tiny shiner from their bait bucket asked, “Can I be in the magazine too, with the smallest fish of the day?” His face contorting to hide his devilish grin, knowing that his sarcastic request was absurd, but also reading my amusement and loving it.
Then there was 3-year-old Joseph Lowell, he landed the biggest fish I saw all day, a portly brown that probably measured 16 inches. He tried so hard to hold that fish for a photo, but the slippery little bugger just wasn’t having it. Finally he lifted the fish himself, gripping it around the belly, his facial expression was a better match for holding a rattlesnake, but we got the photo!
The rain held off longer than was predicted, but as we crossed into the last hour, it pelted down and Mike and I found ourselves posted up with the Goose’s Ian McPartland, between two of the most dedicated young anglers I have ever met. First we had 8-year-old Demetrious, this kid was on fire, talking a 1000 mph, telling stories about his pet goldfish Jeffrey that had died because “He didn’t have a babysitter” and leapt out of the cup. “That fish had a death-wish!” He exclaimed with a timely pause for us to laugh. And then we had Hazel, she was probably 11 and had never caught a fish. Under Mike’s tutelage, she became a pretty solid caster and as the rain soaked her sweatshirt, she stood even more determined to hook a fish!
Forty-five minutes passed, as the downpour intensified. We looked around and it appeared that we were the only ones still fishing. Demetrious would cast off his shiner and one of us would immediately help him re-bait. Hazel’s nightcrawler would fling off and one of us would pin one back on the hook. I can’t think of a time when I wanted another person to catch fish more than that moment. Soon, I was wading out to my waist to cast for Hazel, trying to get past the long shallow shelf and out to the drop-off.
Suddenly, Hazel’s line lifted and went tight. She grabbed the rod and felt for life, but the fish dropped the bait! At separate moments I heard both parents/grandparents whisper prayers, “please let them catch a fish!” But the rain had other plans and soon it was coming down so hard that no one could stand it. On one hand, my heart broke, if anyone deserved a fish, it was them. But on the other hand, I felt proud of them. Demetrious’s unwavering enthusiasm and good natured outlook, were amazing “I don’t mind being cold! I like the cold!” He said wild-eyed with dripping hair. And Hazel’s dogged determination gave me faith in this young generation, they’re not all spoiled by instant gratification, some of them still can dig deep and find that edge that helps them push on. And I am certain, that this will carry them far. This was a very rewarding experience, and I sincerely hope that they will both be back next year, because I know I will.
