On the Pleasures of Fishing
On the Pleasures of Fishing
A Personal Recollection and Refutation.
(or "Boy, is it gonna be awkward if my Father-in-Law reads this")
As a boy I occasionally fished, dipping an impaled earthworm into a pond to entice a puny sunfish out. I even owned a fishing rod--a collapsable one of the kind sold on television, treasured more for its value as a gadget than for its practical use. But I haven't fished since my high school graduation party, a weekend-long affair at a Vermont lake. That was the scene of two grisly fishing mishaps, perhaps not coincidentally involving the only fish I've ever caught that weren't sunfish (or "pumpkinseeds" as we called them). One tiny perch swallowed the bait, hook and all, and was found floating the next day with the detached end of the line still sticking out of its gape. And then a bass I released from a high dock hit the water on the second bounce after striking floating wood, and then floated there itself. But these are the pains of fishing, and I intend to speak of its pleasures, and ultimately, why I do not partake in them.
1. The Pleasure of Standing by the Water, Doing Nothing.
The shore is a beautiful place, with the sound of the water gently lapping and the sun dancing on the ripples. With a fishing pole in your hand you can remain there for hours on end, letting the thoughts drift in and out of your head. Without the fishing pole, after a while you look like a dolt; you get tired and bored and sit down; after about 20 minutes, without the futile task of impaling worms and suffocating fish out of the water, you realize there's no reason for you to sit there, and your butt is cold and damp.
2. The Pleasure of Drinking Beer in a Boat.
I've never done this myself, but I understand that its common among anglers. Without fishing, you're some dangerous idiot, drinking beer on a boat. With fishing you're a "sportsman."
3. The Pleasure of Close Interaction with Animals.
In all honesty, this is why I fished. You can turn over rocks to look at bugs, you can visit farms and zoos, but nothing compares to the thrill of dragging an animal out of nature by its lip. Pumpkinseeds aren't the most majestic fish to behold (and you have to watch how you behold them! They can erect their dorsal fin into a row of sharp spines) but fishing is certainly the most efficient way to get a close look at them.
Anyway, I was much better at angling for rock crabs at the seashore. New England's rocky coast and stone breakwaters are terrific habitat for millions of these squat, toadlike crustaceans. I would smash a mussel with a rock, tie a string around it, drop it into a likely crevice, and in no time pull a crab up to the surface. They clung tenaciously to the bait, attached by stubbornness instead of a metal hook. Crabs are also more interesting to observe on land than fish. While fish merely die in slow, silent agony, crabs scuttle about, waving their pincers menacingly, before finding their way back to the cold water. This pastime was surely no fun for the mussel, but no great hardship for the crab, unless they were caught by one of the other boys. Firecrackers and heavy stones were the tools used in their nature observances.
4. The Pleasure of Procuring One's Own Food.
There's nothing better than to be on a hike in the woods and discover a raspberry or blueberry bush! Imagine, food for the finding, provided by Mother Nature momentarily caught in a good mood. Along these lines, I understand the pleasure of fishing for food. Vegetarianism (and occasional childhood tuna sandwiches) aside, I do now and have always considered any food of aquatic or marine origin to be unequivocably loathesome. (Don't ask me why tuna is exempt. It just is, for some reason.) The nicest thing I can say of seafood is that it is salty. A cooked fish smells no more appetizing to me than a decomposing fish. The same goes for seaweed, mollusks and crustaceans--yes, even that overrated cockroach of the sea, lobster. If one could cast a line into the depths and pull out anything worth eating, then I could see the pleasure of fishing for food. Due to my prejudices, fishing for sustenance rates alongside eating maggots out of the trash.
5. The Pleasure of Killing.
Whether shoving an M-80 into a pumpkinseed's mouth or clubbing a marlin senseless on the back of a chartered boat, fishing enthusiasts love to kill! The pleasure found in snuffing out a life is common to mosquito slappers and serial killers alike. This is one of those dirty truths that no one likes, not even fishermen. Oh, they'll wax poetic and quote Hemingway (who also loved a good bullfight, or war) but the thrill in ending a creature's existence is part of the fun of fishing. I think that it's necessary to human survival, frankly--we never would have made it through the ice ages if we didn't get a charge out of make some creature stop moving for good.
I'm not morally opposed to death, and if I were my outrage would be impotent. All living things must die, and it matters little to the Universe by whose hand they do so. But it's never been a pleasure for me. As I said earlier, I'm not going to eat the damn things, so why should I cause them to die? Even though I've released every fish I've ever caught, I still made two of them die--that I know of.
I kill dozens of mice on a weekly basis. They suffocate, breathing carbon dioxide instead of air, gasping like fish that can't get atmospheric oxygen into their gills. It's with satisfaction that I report that I get no pleasure from this chore. (The birds of prey that I care for, who would probably find great pleasure in killing these mice, are ironically deprived of it.) Like most modern people, I find killing to be an unsettling, sad task. This is one reason why food animals come pre-killed and pre-butchered at the store, reducing carnivorous humans to carrion feeders. Does this mean that fishermen are making a spiritual connection to their noble savage roots, or that they are callous sadists?
All I can say is, don't ask me to fish, and I won't ask you to eat maggots out of the trash. I'd rather drink beer on a boat, or better yet, stand on the shore, doing nothing.
A Personal Recollection and Refutation.
(or "Boy, is it gonna be awkward if my Father-in-Law reads this")
As a boy I occasionally fished, dipping an impaled earthworm into a pond to entice a puny sunfish out. I even owned a fishing rod--a collapsable one of the kind sold on television, treasured more for its value as a gadget than for its practical use. But I haven't fished since my high school graduation party, a weekend-long affair at a Vermont lake. That was the scene of two grisly fishing mishaps, perhaps not coincidentally involving the only fish I've ever caught that weren't sunfish (or "pumpkinseeds" as we called them). One tiny perch swallowed the bait, hook and all, and was found floating the next day with the detached end of the line still sticking out of its gape. And then a bass I released from a high dock hit the water on the second bounce after striking floating wood, and then floated there itself. But these are the pains of fishing, and I intend to speak of its pleasures, and ultimately, why I do not partake in them.
1. The Pleasure of Standing by the Water, Doing Nothing.
The shore is a beautiful place, with the sound of the water gently lapping and the sun dancing on the ripples. With a fishing pole in your hand you can remain there for hours on end, letting the thoughts drift in and out of your head. Without the fishing pole, after a while you look like a dolt; you get tired and bored and sit down; after about 20 minutes, without the futile task of impaling worms and suffocating fish out of the water, you realize there's no reason for you to sit there, and your butt is cold and damp.
2. The Pleasure of Drinking Beer in a Boat.
I've never done this myself, but I understand that its common among anglers. Without fishing, you're some dangerous idiot, drinking beer on a boat. With fishing you're a "sportsman."
3. The Pleasure of Close Interaction with Animals.
In all honesty, this is why I fished. You can turn over rocks to look at bugs, you can visit farms and zoos, but nothing compares to the thrill of dragging an animal out of nature by its lip. Pumpkinseeds aren't the most majestic fish to behold (and you have to watch how you behold them! They can erect their dorsal fin into a row of sharp spines) but fishing is certainly the most efficient way to get a close look at them.
Anyway, I was much better at angling for rock crabs at the seashore. New England's rocky coast and stone breakwaters are terrific habitat for millions of these squat, toadlike crustaceans. I would smash a mussel with a rock, tie a string around it, drop it into a likely crevice, and in no time pull a crab up to the surface. They clung tenaciously to the bait, attached by stubbornness instead of a metal hook. Crabs are also more interesting to observe on land than fish. While fish merely die in slow, silent agony, crabs scuttle about, waving their pincers menacingly, before finding their way back to the cold water. This pastime was surely no fun for the mussel, but no great hardship for the crab, unless they were caught by one of the other boys. Firecrackers and heavy stones were the tools used in their nature observances.
4. The Pleasure of Procuring One's Own Food.
There's nothing better than to be on a hike in the woods and discover a raspberry or blueberry bush! Imagine, food for the finding, provided by Mother Nature momentarily caught in a good mood. Along these lines, I understand the pleasure of fishing for food. Vegetarianism (and occasional childhood tuna sandwiches) aside, I do now and have always considered any food of aquatic or marine origin to be unequivocably loathesome. (Don't ask me why tuna is exempt. It just is, for some reason.) The nicest thing I can say of seafood is that it is salty. A cooked fish smells no more appetizing to me than a decomposing fish. The same goes for seaweed, mollusks and crustaceans--yes, even that overrated cockroach of the sea, lobster. If one could cast a line into the depths and pull out anything worth eating, then I could see the pleasure of fishing for food. Due to my prejudices, fishing for sustenance rates alongside eating maggots out of the trash.
5. The Pleasure of Killing.
Whether shoving an M-80 into a pumpkinseed's mouth or clubbing a marlin senseless on the back of a chartered boat, fishing enthusiasts love to kill! The pleasure found in snuffing out a life is common to mosquito slappers and serial killers alike. This is one of those dirty truths that no one likes, not even fishermen. Oh, they'll wax poetic and quote Hemingway (who also loved a good bullfight, or war) but the thrill in ending a creature's existence is part of the fun of fishing. I think that it's necessary to human survival, frankly--we never would have made it through the ice ages if we didn't get a charge out of make some creature stop moving for good.
I'm not morally opposed to death, and if I were my outrage would be impotent. All living things must die, and it matters little to the Universe by whose hand they do so. But it's never been a pleasure for me. As I said earlier, I'm not going to eat the damn things, so why should I cause them to die? Even though I've released every fish I've ever caught, I still made two of them die--that I know of.
I kill dozens of mice on a weekly basis. They suffocate, breathing carbon dioxide instead of air, gasping like fish that can't get atmospheric oxygen into their gills. It's with satisfaction that I report that I get no pleasure from this chore. (The birds of prey that I care for, who would probably find great pleasure in killing these mice, are ironically deprived of it.) Like most modern people, I find killing to be an unsettling, sad task. This is one reason why food animals come pre-killed and pre-butchered at the store, reducing carnivorous humans to carrion feeders. Does this mean that fishermen are making a spiritual connection to their noble savage roots, or that they are callous sadists?
All I can say is, don't ask me to fish, and I won't ask you to eat maggots out of the trash. I'd rather drink beer on a boat, or better yet, stand on the shore, doing nothing.