Father’s Day fish story

Click to watch this 8-minute “story with a point” video.  I’d like to dedicate it to my father, Jim Goad, who organized a memorable fishing trip in March. 

Added bonus:   My dad’s stated secret to happiness… “Looking forward to waking up each day, and finding something positive to be thankful for.”  Thanks Dad!

David and Jim Goad

David and Jim Goad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

P.S. I highly recommend Toastmasters for anyone seeking to improve their communication and leadership skills.  www.toastmasters.org

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4 Comments on “Father’s Day fish story”

  1. Roland Says:

    That was a cool story… delivered perfectly. Good work, Dave!

    My own fish stories aren’t quite so thought provoking, perhaps… maybe because they are also real fish stories, but more concerned with the fish themselves!

    One is fishing with my kids in a pond in Big Pine near Bishop with two of my three daughters, who were like 6 and 8 years of age… not wanting to extract more than what we could eat, I suggested that we use hookless rigs. We had so much fun hooking up thirty or so fish after that, which simply let go of the baited swivel when they discovered that they could!

    The same trip (this is going to be a bit long… sorry Dave…), I went off on my own one morning to have my own private excursion, and commune with nature on a rock around which aspects of the stream flowed. I caught a couple of nice trout, and figured that we had lunch in the bag.

    Then I dropped my line in the water again with the same fave rig that I had been using, and figured that whether any more fish bit or not, I would just enjoy the stream, the shady trees, and the calming beauty of Big Pine.

    Suddenly my pole bent over like a whale was attached, and I had trouble hanging on to my rod. I snapped to attention and realized that for as much torque as this particular candidate for the pan was leveraging on my rod, he may not fit in the pan at all! I also thought that, being the contest weekend, this may be one of the special planted trout from the fish farm that they had released into the water upstream. There was a $1,000 prize that weekend for the landing of the biggest trout, and the trophy targets had each been tagged with a special button on the gills.

    I had to get off of my rock and stand on the bank to work this fish over without breaking my lead line, which was only a two pound test. This trout on my line was bound to be a four or five pounder, potentially enough to compete for the prize.

    It must have been several minutes of patient pole-play before I had this magnificent rainbow near the bank. He was exhausted, yet still pulled this way and that trying to get free of the merciless hook that had snagged him perfectly on the lower lip. As I drew him closer, I saw that he indeed was one of the fattened farm trout, and marked with the button on the gill.

    This has to be the biggest trout I have ever had on line! I grabbed my net… then stopped… What was wrong with me? I was suddenly getting emotional about this grand ol’ fish that had lived his life in a concrete pool, which had suddenly transformed into a paradise of natural waters, and new experiences.

    What the heck! Why should I care about the feelings of a fish?

    At that moment I realized that it was the human element in me that I was dealing with. Whether or not the fish had a soul, or could think like a human – that was not what mattered. What mattered was my perspective for me. I had an opportunity for self-discovery.

    After a few seconds of watching that gorgeous rainbow trout lie in the shallows of the stream, I reached – not for my net – but for my dehooker, a specially made pair of pliers for fishing. I carefully followed the line as a guide and found the end of the hook where it attached to the line, making sure not to touch the body of the fish. Gripping the end of the hook, I twisted it slowly, and with very little imposition to the fish, I extracted the hook from its lip.

    It took it a few more seconds for the freed trophy trout to realize that there was no longer the invisible line attached to its lip that had ruthlessly pulled him from his new habitat. As he regained some strength, the potentially trophy winning trout sluggishly drew itself back into the deeper part of the stream, then swam from my sight into the shadows of the rock upon which I had sat.

    So the fish lives on. Maybe… but if not, it wasn’t because I stole it from its new home in the wilds of Big Pine Creek. I realized that I didn’t need the money, or the glory of the weekend trophy, or another fish to eat. I just needed to feel good about myself.

    Nobody got to see the grand trophy trout with the buttoned gill… but I did! It was awesome. Some say it is just a traditional “fish story” … the one that got away. But I know that I chose to let it go. I feel good about that. And maybe no one else will believe. But at least I know it happened.

    So, you believe me, don’t you?

    :o) Roland.

  2. davidgoad Says:

    Roland I love your long responses! Looks like you need a blog of your own 🙂

  3. Fr. Goad Says:

    Yes, good is always just out of sight for many. Great things come to those that look for them. Love life, for you have only one. Fr. Goad of Tucson AZ


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