When asked why I fish:
Victor Leake

Each Spring as winter loses it's grip on the world the fever rises up inside each angler. Those that do not fish ask "What do you get from fishing?" From year to year; day to day, fishing is one glorious adventure.

Remembering back for instance the contemplated fishing trip. Have you not ever laid through out the night with eager anticipation, unable to sleep more than a few fitful moments? Floating on clouds of hazy sleep, fighting dream battles with mighty warrior fish on some distant water. Who among you has felt that constant fear of over sleeping and being left behind?

Picture this and come along on this angling trip. The clock strikes four, we are up with a bound and dress most hurriedly, all the while talking in hushed tones as not to wake the rest of the house. Rods and tackle have been laid out the night before as we draw our coats up tight against the cool night air. The stars at this time of day shine brighter than at any time during the dark night, but time is short and we must be off.

Off through the deserted streets we drive as neighbors dogs bark at the early morning noise. There is peace in the morning ride as bracing air whips new fever into the spirit. The pale gray breaks through the eastern horizon as we turn from the beaten path.

Nature rubs its eyes from deep sleep as the streaks of crimson dance across the east. Across the fog-streaked valley, we can now see the dark and mysterious waters.

The dew kissed web of some spider hangs by the road side, looking like some fancy lace studded with priceless gems. A cotton tail races ahead of us, but soon over taken darts into the safety of near by grass.

At last upon the water we go, and in the still dim light of early morn we begin to cast our offerings. At first only small bass and sunfish take our offerings. The that dream bass comes to life. The king of the waters has flung his challenge. The line tightens as he dashes for cover. The rod bends to the weight as I pull back determined not to lose this prize. He turns and heads toward the sky, mouth wide open and the hook looking so small hanging perilously in open jaws. Then dives once again into the depths, unyielding foe; there can be no compromise!

I am weak with excitement as stinging sweat gets into my eyes, the battle all but won. Turning on his side he seems to resign to his fate, he is mine. Defeated, but subdued.

I grip the fear-stricken warrior and hold him up in admiration. What a trophy, all seven pounds of fighting frantic bass. But how could I be so unjust as to pass lowly sentence of death to one so game? Has not he earned his freedom in with his warriors spirit, making my heart leap with priceless trills? He needs no other defense; I release him back into the waters from wince he came. Go gallant warrior and make more of your breed for other sportsmen to enjoy on days yet not born. I may have enough fish but never enough fishing. The hours all too fleeting, with more pools still beckoning me, yet my time is over, the day grows late. What a pleasure this day has been, what memories to be cherished.

Remember; catch all you want, keep just what you need and please release the rest for the future!