Building a lifetime bond

I eagerly accepted when Kenny Talbert recently invited me to go bream fishing. We had been anticipating June for several months. Although one can pretty much catch this fish species throughout the warmer months of the year, this was the beginning of their nesting season.

To find bream, as big as one’s opened hand, both gathered in numbers and eager to bite lends to an experience unsurpassed. So even the slightest suspicion we might happen upon a nesting area was more than enough for me to grow excited. Let alone the fact that they are some of the best-tasting fish native to our lakes, ponds and rivers.

Although anticipating success, the reason I accepted my friend’s invitation was two-fold. His grandson,

Blaine, would be going as well. And the only thing I could think of that was more enjoyable than catching a mess of bream would be watching a youngster’s face illuminate with excitement when they experienced fishing success.

Arriving at the ramp during mid-morning, we embarked upon a boat ride to a location where bream were suspect to be nesting. A stiff wind might prove somewhat of a hindrance in locating bream beds from the boat, as the choppy water would restrict what we see below the surface. But that was OK, as we would simply depend upon our instincts in areas where we had never bream fished before. And our memory of the location of beds during previous years would certainly up our odds of success in the hours to come.

Anybody who has spent much time fishing will be quick to agree that there are no guarantees once one hits the water. Locations where the fish were in a feeding frenzy the day prior can appear barren of any form of life. And then again, spots where one couldn’t buy a bite might just be the most productive spot on the water only hours later.

Well, it just so happened that we could not find a single nest during our recent excursion. But that was no indication, however, that our trip was anything less than a success. Fortunately, the shorelines were bountiful with bream, even during their spawning periods.

Granted, those remaining in the shallows along the water’s edge are rather small. But are still eager to bite, and in fact, are one of the most persistent fish I have ever seen.

I don’t suppose the trip would have been remotely considered as a success had Kenny and I had been fishing alone. But the fact that Blaine was with us changed the entire outlook of the excursion.

Tossing a cricket near a partially submerged bush, Kenny tied into a small bream within a matter of seconds. Keeping the line tight long enough to hand the rod to Blaine, he urged his grandson to wind.

The fish’s stature didn’t appear to matter to the youngster, as he was grinning from ear to ear. And to say he grew even more excited upon lifting his catch into the boat would prove an understatement. I, too, urged Blaine to retrieve the fish I caught throughout the morning. And I enjoyed the excitement in his voice and the joy in his eyes.

But the true enjoyment, for me, came in watching my friend share with his grandson a passion for the outdoors. While watching Kenny spend quality time with Blaine, I couldn’t help but reminisce about the good times that my father so selflessly shared with me.

I then recalled the fact that Kenny and his dad still find time to fellowship while hunting and fishing. Yep, it was a true blessing to sit back and watch my friend spending time with his grandson. And I couldn’t help but have the utmost respect for a fella who recognized the importance of mentoring a youth and was taking the initial steps of building a lifetime bond.