Boating ain't fishing but fishing ain't neccasserily boating, huh?

Boating from 2004

by boatguy Ed

I was in a favorite waterfront restaurant the other day and a group of strangers broke into spontaneous discourse about the state of fishing in Florida. This is an unofficial recollection of the high points of that conversation. I have disguised the identity of the actual participants in order to protect the innocent and the guilty.

“So you’re the boatguy that writes them stories in the newspaper,” said Minnesota Mike as he stopped by my. “I’m not exactly sure about all you write but I think you’re funny sometimes.”

“…they’re columns, I write a weekly column.”

“Columns? Whatever, I think you’re funny sometimes but you should write more about fishing!”

More than not, bartenders don’t pay attention to me except when you don’t care if the do or not, 

“There ain’t any fish left,” said Ralph.

From the other side of the bar, New Jersey Nick, popped into the conversation. “I can catch all the catfish I want but the good fish are really scarce.”

For a very long time our little group recounted tails of stalking the elusive species and the thrill of seeing fish break the surface. We all recounted truly memorable experiences even though some of them had to be exaggerated, to some degree. After all lying is the second best part of fishing and very few fishermen would call out a stranger about exaggerating. And if you are a long time friend and fishing buddy then you are obligated to hoot and holler.

“There aren’t any saltwater fish that taste as good as a fresh caught Walleye,” said a snowbird from Ohio.

“Have you ever eaten a fresh caught Snook,” I asked with incredulity dripping off every syllable. (Sorry for the high sounding word but I’m trying to balance between down home and classy writing.) Mr. Snowbird had never tasted a Snook except the South African type served in low restaurants in Cape Coral, which is really some type of lake Perch.

“There are plenty of fish left,” said Minnesota Mike, “I have them under my dock all the time.”

“Sure they’re under your dock because there isn’t much natural cover for them to hide under anymore,” said I.

“Then the State should build artificial habitat instead of making us homeowners keep those ugly Mangrove trees blocking our view,” said the Snowbird from Ohio.

I nearly spit out my Seltzer water with lemon all over the bartender who was leaning into hear more of the conversation over the annoying requests for service. I had been caught off guard while trying to remember when I last tasted Snook. I had searched my short-term memory all the way back to 2002 without remembering the gentle taste of the sweet white meat. All we “catch and release” fishermen types have are our memories.

There was a general hubbub of agreement about property owner’s rights buzzing around while I caught my breath. After I counted to ten in order to recapture some of my normal self-composure I said, “You are an idiot!”

Only the bartender laughed as he went away to pour some drinks. I was proud of myself for not saying what I really thought but the buzz from the others went from reinforcing property rights to a nasty attack on yours truly. Try as I did I couldn’t be heard above the din of upraised voices.

One of the reasons bartenders shouldn’t talk politics or fish is they have a bully pulpit from which to speak. The bar acts like a podium and tends to give them more credence and therefore they can be held in higher esteem by some or lose tips by others. Ralph (not his real name, remember?) tried to ride the fence but fell off when he said; “Mangroves were the source of all nutrients until we built golf courses.”

He should’ve never brought up golf because the conversation nearly turned into a riot. Bad enough we should attack Snowbirds, which we weren’t, or property rights, which we weren’t either but to even hint at the destructive properties of the game of golf, was considered treasonous by our little group!

Fearing for my well being I was forced to admit that the nearly one hundred local area golf courses couldn’t possibly endanger any fish species. That several hundred “retention ponds,” those developers tell Snowbirds is the water in their waterfront property, never overflow and dump phosphate based fertilizer and pesticides into our saltwater habitat. I held my ground on the Mangrove trees, though and escaped with some dignity.

I’ve learned a lesson! Add fishing to the two subjects never to discuss in a bar no matter if the participants are drinking seltzer and lemon or beer or Hurricane bowls! Things can quickly get out of hand. If you must talk fish, lie about the ones that got away not the ones that aren’t there anymore because of runoff!

Boat and fish safely! In this one case, I am happy Snowbirds don’t know how to use computers! See the rest of you on the Internet Boating Show! Send questions and comments to boatguiEd@aol.com or this publication.