How to get young anglers hooked
It’s funny how some things never change.
I cut my teeth in fishing in the 1960s, jumping ponds mostly in rural Collin County. It was a childish summer rite, much of it was spent fucking grasshoppers and crickets with a cane pole in one hand and a tin can in the other, air holes drilled in the lid to help keep agitated baits alive.
The ponds I had access to as a kid were good – loaded with bluegills, river cats and bass that were almost always willing to cooperate. It is unknown how many fish have been caught in these special waters by friends and family members. The time spent watching a bobber dance in the wind is one of my fondest childhood memories.
The experiences obviously left an everlasting imprint on a young mind. I will be 61 this year. I’m always excited to see a cork sink like I always have.