Apr 12, 2024 5 min read

By Dave Bates

For the Observer-Reporter

newsroom@observer-reporter.com

Mt. Morris Sportsman’s Club hosted a hunter safety course a few weeks ago. We had about 25 kids taking the course and the morning had progressed as well as can be expected. Kids learn best by doing, and as a teacher of 30-plus years I kinda knew that already. Alas, only so much “hands on learning” can take place in the required Pennsylvania Hunter Trapper Education course.

Just as I was about to announce a break in the instruction, one of the officers from the club stuck his head through the door and said that the stocking truck was pulling up to begin stocking the pond for the club’s upcoming fishing event. I saw a couple of kids perk up at this idea and we took a break, heading off toward the stocking, already in progress.

The temperature was hovering around 40 degrees with intermittent snow blustering through the air, that bone-chilling cold that makes old folks cringe and reach for a cardigan. The kids didn’t seem to mind at all.

The fellow on the stocking truck offered to let the youngsters assist with off loading the buckets of trout down the “trout slide” and depositing them into the lake. It was evident from the get-go that taking part in an actual trout stocking is indeed more captivating than sitting through an all-day hunter safety lecture with brother Glenn, our partner Bill and myself providing the instruction.

There were some real lunkers tossed into the water and not just one or two. I have been a part of enough stockings to know that I was witnessing something special. One of the bigger fish slid onto the ground and flopped about in the grass. A young man of 11 or 12 years was assigned the arduous task of introducing this exceptional Rainbow into his new environment. It looked more like a greased pig contest of old but I had more fun watching him wrangle the monster trout as I exploded with laughter. The short break was enough to keep their attention, until lunch anyway. The chili-cheese dogs took over from that point.

Which drives the point home – anything that gets kids that excited should to be enjoyed by young and old alike. Right then and there, I decided that I will be on the shores of a local stream on the first day of trout season, which began last weekend.

It had been nearly 20 years since I had taken part in the ritual that is the first day of trout. Last year, I confessed to my readers that I am an embarrassingly poor fisherman. That aside, I am going all-in this trout season. I had already looked for my old trout vest and dip net. I formed a list of the many supplies I need since it has been a number of years since I have partaken. I planned a stop at Ozie’s Sport Shop to pick up some new fishing line and a few hooks. It’s been so long I can’t remember what spinners I might have had success with beyond a Dardevle or a Rooster Tail. I have to pick up some obligatory earthworms and mealworms as well. And some salmon eggs. And maybe a pail of minnows. Ooooohh, I almost forgot the Powerbait. And some jigs. I’m out of split shots, and swivels and snap hooks, too.

Beyond the requisite equipment for trout fishing, I guess my favorite part is the buildup. I enjoy looking forward to the first cast, the first morning on the water, the first sunrise. Preparing all the tackle really appeals to me. I love the process of unlocking the right combination of hook size and bait and water clarity that adds up to a catch or two. I guess that’s why fly fishing is so appealing. Once the first fish is hooked I know I’ll be … well … hooked again. I just have to overcome a decade or better of laziness.

As I move closer to retirement, I look forward to spending days on the stream again without fishing against the clock. Wedging my fishing in between mowing grass, ball practice and a real job, amongst other sundry chores, is not my favorite way to fish. I’ll consider this trout season a “scrimmage season,” if you will, in baseball terms. It won’t really count for a contest but will serve more to get me back into shape to fish in days to come. I’ll allow myself some mistakes along the way and will only attempt to shorten the learning curve so much as I return to the water, rededicating myself to fun.

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com