We hired a boat for a couple of hours. It was a beautiful day despite the cloud cover. For winter, it was warm. That alone was enough to make you smile. We pulled up near a sand bar where a man was already fishing. Probably he lost his smile when we arrived. My youngest nephew insisted he wanted to fish. In reality he wanted us to fish and whilst he would go visit the fisherman on the island. Off he went making friends with the man’s dog, shouting across that the fellow had caught lots of fish. His buckets were full. He had three lines going and we saw him pull in a huge fish and an undersize whiting within minutes of arriving.
I was the first in our boat to get a bite but it was my brother who caught both our fish.
The first was an undersize flathead, we were informed by the fisherman in the other boat.
I had thought it was a catfish with poisonous barbs so the towel came out to hold him with. Removing the hook was a horrible process. We felt like torturers but our smiles were wide as we threw him back in and off he swiftly swam.
Our next fish bent the rod and put up a battle. A whiting of legal length. We could keep it. (Again we had to thank the other chap for passing on his knowledge.)
My youngest nephew was thrilled. He was going to have the entire fishing experience. But who was going to kill it and how do you kill it. My older nephew argued to release it back. “No” insisted the younger. We looked at the knife and then suggested he might like to do the deed. At that point the hook was removed and the fish thrown back to probably be caught later by the chap on the sandbar. Would it be that silly? At least we had smiles on our faces.