Home > Outdoors > Archives > 2008 > June > 09 > Entry
DEL.ICIO.USDad and the worm story
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I will miss my father the rest of my days. It’s been five months since he passed away and there hasn’t been a day in which I haven’t taken pause to remember something about him.
Many of them are about hunting or fishing.
With Father’s Day coming up, those memories have been bubbling up pretty frequently. And many times they’ve been brought on by even the smallest of circumstance.
One hit me the other day when I was at a store which sold nightcrawlers.
It made me think of the days as a kid in Wisconsin when me and my three brothers (but I did most of the work, by the way) sold nightcrawlers to local fishermen. We had a prime location right there at the corner of Brown Boulevard and First Street in Rothschild, next door to the post office that hired me every winter to shovel the front walk.
We put a sign up in the front yard and sold the big worms by the dozen. Business was brisk on Thursdays and Fridays as fishermen readied for weekend trips to the Wisconsin lake country to the north. Of course, it provided us with all the worms we needed for our own fishing trips, many of them for sunfish and bullheads at the Wisconsin River, a 5-minute bike ride from the house.
My father fashioned an old 50-gallon oil drum with a door and lock and buried that sucker in the ground behind the house. We put the nightcrawlers in there to keep them cool through the summer.
Funny, how during that time we needed a lock on the worm box to keep people from stealing our prized worms but never — I mean never — locked the doors to the house.
We made a little money, but the fun was in catching the nightcrawlers, which emerged from the ground every night, and in particularly large numbers during or after a rain. With a flashlight gripped by my incisors I would shine the light at the ground and pick them up, gently pulling them out of their holes so as not to break them off.
I remember once when us young entrepreneurs realized we could dramatically improve our botton line if we helped Mother Nature in bringing those big ol’ worms to the surface. So we watered the lawn — a lot. The wetter the ground, the more nightcrawlers would come out at night.
We had one of the greenest lawns in the neighborhood nearly every summer.
Dad pretty much left the worm biz up to us. That is, until he realized we were running up the water bill. He put a stop to the watering and our inventory plummetted.
Then one day, with our annual two-week family vacation around July 4th just days away, Dad asked about the worms. Did we have enough for vacation? “No, we’re sold out” was the answer.
The watering began again, and we never heard another word about it.
For many outdoors enthusiasts it was dear ol’ Dad who introduced them to hunting and fishing. What’s your best story in the field with your father, and how important was it in shaping your interest in the outdoors?
Comments
By Gene
June 9, 2008 12:32 PM | Link to this
My father was not much of a fisherman, but he would take me a few times during the year. I think I was seven when my father, brother and I went deep-sea fishing in Panama City. It was in the mid 50’s, before Panama City was much of a resort. I have never been as sick in my life from the smell and odor of fishbait. I spent the whole day throwing up and thinking about jumping overboard. After we got back to the pier, I recovered enough to catch some small catfish off the pier with a cane pole. A few years later, my favorite uncle taught me to fly fish for bass on Lake Martin. Those events are special. I am taking my seven-year old grandson fishing next month. I hope that memory becomes as special to him as the memories of my father and uncle.
By Aaron Sago
June 9, 2008 4:57 PM | Link to this
My dad didn’t take me fishing much - was mostly my grandfather. That’s probably the reason I try to take MY son as much as I can. Since I don’t have a story about my dad - I’ll share one about me and my son - one I hope he will remember for a long time (that just happened a few weeks ago…)
The Chattanooga aquarium is now plus one 25lb striper today thanks to my sons big fish of the day.
Joe, Alec (my son), and I went up to one of our favorite big fish holes this morning and while Alec was reeling in the first fish of the day (which ended up being THE fish of the day) we were approached by a fellow from the Chattanooga Aquarium asking if we were interested in “donating” the fish. Since we exclusively catch and release any way it was a no-brainer.
The fish was taken via holding tank to an awaiting truck for transport to the aquarium where it will sit in quarantine for 30 days. After that we’ll be able to go see it in the aquarium. Very cool…
Here’s a link to the pic: http://www.georgia-outdoors.com/images/aq_striper.jpg
Aaron asago@georgiafishingbooks.com www.georgiafishingbooks.com
By Scott Bernarde
June 9, 2008 5:04 PM | Link to this
Cool story, Aaron. Thanks
By Tom Branch Jr - Dacula, GA
June 9, 2008 6:42 PM | Link to this
Me and my Dad did everything outdoors together since I was small child. I guess if you have to blame someone about my love of the outdoors, it is Dad’s fault and boy that is a great thing! Dad started my love of the outdoors by taking me hunting. I have hunted everything in Georgia a kid could hunt: deer, squirrels, rabbit, ducks, quail and grouse. My favorite hunting experience with Dad just happened last year. We were deer hunting together at my club in Greene County, GA. Dad killed his biggest deer of his life time, a 10 point buck. For a change I brought him on this hunting trip. My love for the outdoors has always been fishing. As a young boy Dad took me to Lake Lanier for spotted bass or Moccasin Creek trout fishing. Those were my favorites that got me hooked on fishing. For my 16th birthday I got to tag along on a business trip to Key West, FL. Now that trip got me hooked on saltwater fishing offshore and inshore. Now a days I try to take him fishing when I am visiting his house at Lake Hartwell. He use to take me all the time, now it is my time to take him. I can honestly say my love of the outdoors and fishing is because of my Dad. Thanks Dad. I love you! Happy Father’s day….
By Dan
June 9, 2008 9:00 PM | Link to this
My daddy was not a sportsman, although he did some fishing as a boy growing up in south Alabama. He aslo worked on a charter boat for a couple of summers. BUT..as a pre-teen he made sure that I got to go fishing, camping and hunting. When he discovered my early lust for guns, he not only got me a .22 and a shotgun, but took me to the dump for tin-can shooting on a regular basis. Through friends he introduced me to quail hunting, and every summer when we went to Panama City he saw that I got to go on a party boat trip. He also raised crickets in the basement, so we would have fresh bait! Looking back, I am touched by how much he exposed me to when it wasn’t really his “thing”. That’s what good daddys do.
By Bill Carson
June 10, 2008 9:30 AM | Link to this
Let’s just say my Dad created a monster and now the monster is working to “ruin” other kids. My Mom was telling us one day how she got pregnant by a catfish….yea you heard correct…we laughed so hard and when the laughter died down she informed us that what she meant to say was she craved catfish when she was pregnant with me and thus the reason I am an admitted fish-a-holic.
Growing up at Lake Burton my whole life I have many childhood memories of fishing, hunting and just roaming in the mountains as a young lad with my Dad. As he has grown old I have had the pleasure of “baby sitting” him since he is now about to turn 89 years young in 3 weeks. Dad still loves to fish but has mostly given up hunting since he doesn’t get around as well as he used to. He still walks down to the dock at Burton every day and feeds the fish by the dock with bread…occasionally he will invite one back to the house for dinner.
Dad came to the store here at Bass Pro Shops a few weeks ago and I hooked him up with a Bass Pro hat….first thing he does in the morning and last thing at night is put on and take off that hat. Johnny Morris would be happy to know that no doubt.
Weekend before last I had the opportunity to work with DNR, TU, Gwinnett Parks and Rec and Suntrust to do a Kids Fishing Day at the river where I was rewarded with photo ops to take pictures of kids and Dads/Moms with their first fish ever….priceless.
Create memories that will last generations…take a kid fishing…help me create monsters.
Tight lines…<”)))><
By **Scott Bernarde**
June 10, 2008 10:18 AM | Link to this
OK, another story about Dad. It was years ago on a fishing trip to the Middle of Nowhere, Canada. We had been flown in by seaplane to a fish camp located in the middle of a chain of lakes that seemed endless. You could go for miles and not see civilization.
After a long day of fishing, my father and his best buddy came back to camp splattered with this maroon-colored goo. Seems that they had gone to shore somewhere to rest and have a lunch of fish. (My Dad’s buddy packed a small camp stove in the boat for the meal).
They said they heard planes overheard and walked toward the area to investigate. They saw smoke in the distance. Then it rained this maroon goo, apparently dropped by the planes to put out the fire. They weren’t close to the fire, but close enough to get goo-ed.
That was their story, but we still asked if they had set the fire. Of course, they didn’t. It was a campstove and the fire was quite a ways a way from where they ate, Still, it provided ribbing for the rest of the trip.
And that maroon goo; it stained my Dad’s old Stearns lifevest forever. There is still evidence on the vest today.
By Gene
June 11, 2008 4:01 PM | Link to this
Here is another fishing story without the dad element. When I was about 16, my best friend and I discovered that many of the small ponds around Atlanta were full of nice bass. There was one pond in NW Atlanta that was particularly good. It was no bigger than an Olympic swimming pool, but we could always catch bass weighing a pound or so, that is until we were caught by the owner—a rather disagreeable man who claimed there were no fish in the pond, and he promised to have us arrested if we returned. His name was on the mailbox, and I remember it to this day, but I will just call him Mr. Magoo to protect his anonymity. We developed a plan to call his house to find out when he was around. Mrs. Magoo would accommodate us by saying, “Magoo is in Denver for a week,” or “Magoo will be here at 5 o’clock,” or whatever. The pond was in full view of the driveway, and Mrs. Magoo would always wave to us when she came in or out. From time to time, we also noticed gentlemen visitors to the Magoo house when the disagreeable Mr. Magoo was gone. We always threw the fish back, and there was no real harm—just a great memory. We had another adventure at the Atlanta Water Works pond, but that is another story. Looking back at it, there are worse things kids could do after school.