I was sifting through our local fishing regulations the other night, hunting for a particular piece of information about bowfishing, and getting more irritated by the minute.  I’m not sure who designs the local fishing/hunting guides, but sometimes I feel as though you need a law degree in order to actually understand the laws and rules these guides contain (and that is if you can find what you’re looking for – but that’s for another post).  Thankfully, I enjoy bowfishing, and have already experienced it, so the time spent hunting and pecking for the particular law I was looking for was worth the effort.

But like a noose around a new hunter or fishermen’s neck, I fear all the laws and regulations contained within these guides have the potential to hinder a person’s willingness to start hunting and/or fishing.  Considering these new recruits already have a myriad of things to remember – when to shoot, what to shoot, what to wear, what bait to use, where to fish, etc. – expecting them to be able to pick through a bucket full of regulations and requirements certainly could be viewed as a very daunting task, and could send a possible new hunter/fisherman back from where he came from in a hurry.

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I’m pretty sure of it, actually.  He really is trying to kill me.

A few years ago, while on one of our bow fishing excursions, his boat actually sank.  Luckily for us though, we managed to make it to a canal that was only a few feet deep; the boat was actually sitting on the bottom………..until the bilge pump finally caught up and managed to drain the boat enough to allow us to head to shore.

That little mishap, at first, I blamed on operator error.  It was a new boat, and trying to drive one at 1am is an experience in itself.  I moved on from that little encounter, and thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t have to tread water in the dark.

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The morning was gorgeous – 60 degree temps, little wind, and some sunshine.  My spirits were high, and my hopes were even higher.  But I forgot one very important thing – I was fishing with Jeff.

Everyone knows that if you fish the same water with Jeff- river or stream included – that you will be lucky to catch one fish, while Jeff lands every fish in the lake, including the biggest one of the day.

It’s just the way it goes.  And this day would be no different.

After losing one decent pike at the boat, and then setting the hook on another, only to feel it shred the line and leave me with nothing to show for my efforts other than some frayed, lure-less line, I was a little irritated.  Not to be deterred though, we headed down to the other end of the lake; there’s a heck of a drop off on this end of the lake, and the bass tend to sit right on the edge of it.

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As with all hunting and fishing excursions, this morning’s trip started out with promise.  Unfortunately, though, that promise eventually turned into a very disappointing trip.

Jeff, Ron and I all headed out to Duck Lake in Calhoun County for our first fishing trip that required a boat.  The problem with the entire trip though, was that it was our “first” of the year; and the first time out with any type of mechanized vehicle – on land or water – always has its share of interesting moments.

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It was probably the toughest decision she’s had to make in her short two-year-old life – would it be the Spongebob or the Tinkerbell fishing pole?  I questioned her quite a few times, both in and out of the store, because I wanted her to be sure, and without wavering one bit, she picked the SpongeBob pole again and again.  I was quite shocked, since I thought she’d go with the Tinkerbell pole hands-down, but she had made her decision and there was no turning back.  And since mommy was heading to the store anyway, I asked her to pick up the pole in preparation for an evening trip to Papa and Grandma’s pond.

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