A bright Rhode Island sun beamed down on the water, a thousand facets of light sparkling and reflecting off the tiny waves a rusting wind pushed playfully across the lakes surface. Everything surrounding us was a bright green, and the round lily pads were crowned majestically by their bowl shaped white and yellow flowers — a beautiful sight.
Against the far shore, a great blue heron stalked the shallows with slow, measured steps, his sharps eyes scanning the area in front of him for fish or frogs to fill his voracious appetite. Flycatcher swooped overhead while robins, grackles, blackbirds, blue jays and countless other small birds flew, hopped, sat or sang around us.
My grandson, Nate, and I scanned the shoreline looking for an open area to fish scorning the much used dock the state had installed. Even sunfish become shy and wise when fished for literally every day of the summer. We needed to get away from the crowd and find an area less frequented. To our right some 200 yards away we saw an area that appeared to be an abandoned swimming beach. Could we get to it?
We grabbed our equipment and walked in that direction. Soon we saw a grown over sidewalk, climbed the guardrails and followed it. Small trees, grass, weeds and some large patches of poison ivy were slowly obscuring the walkway, but, all in all, the going was clear. Our path curved around toward the lake and sure enough brought us to the open area we’d seen earlier.
There appeared to be little doubt it had indeed been a beach. The area was still sandy despite the weeds now growing, but why had it been deserted? Hard to say, it appeared to be the perfect location, one of the few gradual sloping spots on the lake.
Down to the water where Nate and I snapped on bobbers and baited our hooks with pieces of nightcrawler. I don’t know what it is about fishing with a bobber, but I just love to do so. Once cast out the bobber sits on the surface drifting slowly with the waves. You watch it intently for any sign of activity. Sometimes its stops or becomes more upright. You tense up alert as a cat, waiting for any other hints a fish has your bait.
Other times the bobber simply vanishes almost instantly. Occasionally it begins moving across the surface as a fish tows it along or jiggles enticingly. It’s always a bit of a shock when things are slow and you grow lax, watching birds, staring at your feet or twiddling with a blade of grass to glance out where your bobber should be and realize it’s under! You frantically grab for the pole and hope you’re not too late to remove the slack and set the hook.
The wind was in our faces here so we waded out knee deep before casting, hoping to get our baits into deeper water. Though the temperature was almost 80 the breeze and cool water washing around our legs kept us comfortable. We cast, our orange and yellow bobbers sailing out to land with a plop in the lake. We waited expectantly.
Suddenly, Nates bobber stopped and then slowly disappeared beneath the surface. He set the hook and his UL rod bent as he reeled in a spunky bluegill. I was just about to congratulate him when I glanced back at my bobber. Where was it? Holy Cow! I reeled frantically, but it was too late, the bobber popped back up. I reeled in and saw my bare hook. The little beggar had robbed me!
Nate, always quick to observe, said, “Keep your eye on the bobber Papa, you have to be paying attention, can’t be gawking around.” A big grin on his face let me know how much he was enjoying this moment as I’d told him the same thing many times before. Now it appeared it was his time for payback.
I gave him a dirty look which only seemed to increase his enjoyment. I quickly re-baited and cast once again. Nate did likewise and to my chagrin had another hit immediately. My bobber just sat there and when Nate had caught 4 or 5 sunfish I reeled in and cast to the area he’d been fishing.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Nate demanded, frowning. “That’s my spot!”
“I’m only doing what you do to me.” I replied, an innocent look on my face. Nate’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t say much as he, without fail, always cast to any areas I had success.
I never cease to marvel how quickly times passes when you’re fishing. We moved up and down the beach and soon had around 20 bluegills worth keeping. We’d probably caught close to 80 sunfish all told. I glanced at my watch and did a double take. Four hours had passed! How did that happen?
Then, I looked at my legs, arms and hands, they were a shimmering crimson, I was badly sunburned. Even Nate, who had at least the beginning of a tan, was red. Time to go.
The next evening as Seth, Julie, Kylie, Kate, Nate and I enjoyed our bluegill fish fry I mentioned we should thank Nate for his contribution toward dinner. His pride was something to behold.
