Tidelines – May 29, 2014
James Hurley with a spanish mackerel caught inside of the Liberty Ship on a trolled Clarkspoon while fishing with his brother (Owen) and dad (Gary).
I don’t even want to say the words out loud because I don’t want to jinx it, but I think my two oldest boys are finally taking to fishing. Progress is being made.
In the pages of prior Tidelines I’ve spoken of their lack of interest in fishing (asking me after a few casts if they can play games on my phone) and their greater interest in catching bait (throwing the cast net, collecting the mullet, putting the mullet into a five gallon bucket, and then dip netting the mullet out one by one to release them, repeat). So my strategy has been to patiently expose them to fishing as opposed to push fishing on them, and this past weekend my slow play seems to be paying off.
Owen (age 8) and James (age 7) enjoy spanish mackerel fishing most, so this year I’ve been playing the best odds—trolling for spanish with a couple of casting rods at the ready in case the opportunity presents itself. Their interest in spanish mackerel fishing first came about during last year’s Spanish Mackerel Open, an event that Fisherman’s Post started last fall to highlight the accessibility and kid-friendly nature of targeting spanish just off the beach.
That “appreciation” of spanish fishing the boys showed wasn’t the straight line of take your kids fishing, catch fish, and then your kids love fishing. No, we had to go about it via an alternate path.
The first technique I employed last fall was the promise of donuts once we’re out in the ocean.
The next element of the Spanish Mackerel Open that made fishing way more interesting for the boys? The promise of medals if we weighed in a fish, and the possibility of a prize check if we weighed in fish heavy enough.
And since that tournament weekend last fall, it has been easier to get the boys on the boat for a morning of spanish mackerel fishing.
This past weekend we headed out of Mason’s Inlet and had the donuts on board. The boys discussed it amongst themselves, and then announced that instead of waiting until we were in the ocean, they were going to wait until we caught our first fish before they ate donuts.
Then as we pulled back to idle and were putting out the first Clarkspoon, the boys decided to go back to the original plan—only wait until we were out in the ocean for donuts.
The fishing was slow for us, but the radio told the tale of it being slow for everyone. The boys passed the time by telling a few of their favorite jokes.
James: “What is the laziest piece of wood? The board because it’s always bored.”
Owen: “What frog can jump higher than the Empire State Building? All of them—the Empire State Building can’t jump.”
James: “Say hi to your knee.”
Owen: “Say I and then spell cup.”
The trolling (and the jokes) didn’t improve, so I gave the boys the option of heading back in or trying to catch some fish on the bottom. They, a little surprisingly to me, opted for fishing the bottom, and soon their diamond jigs were bringing up the predictable assortment of ringtails, small sea bass, and croakers.
And that night as I was putting them to bed we played a game we created about a week ago: would you rather blank or blank? For example, would you rather lose TV for a week or lose dessert for a week?
My question on this night was: Would you rather go fishing Sunday morning with no donuts, or stay in and watch TV with donuts. Fishing without donuts won (at least theoretically), and that’s definitely progress.
