Fishing with Uncle Robbie

My Daddy and all his brothers were hunters and fishermen. They grew up during the Great Depression when life on the farm was tough. Hunting and fishing helped put food on the table. There wasn't any such thing as "catch-and-release" fishing back then. They kept every fish that was big enough to eat. My brothers and I were raised the same way. I've never thrown back a fish unless it was a little one.

When I was a youngster we fished the local ponds, creeks and swamps. We made trips to the Edisto River, Four Holes and Sparkleberry. My Daddy, my brother David and I were often accompanied by one of our uncles, Heyward, John or Robbie. My younger brother Matt came along later.

Uncle Robbie was Daddy's youngest brother. In his day, he was a good fisherman. I think he could have caught fish out of a rain barrel in the yard. He liked to fish for bass, bream, warmouths and redbreast. Bream fishing was his favorite.

We mostly used little one-man wooden boats back then. The boats were built at home. Some had an extra seat toward the front that would accommodate a youngster. They were wide bottomed, shallow drafted and extremely stable on the water.

Some models had a live well built in under the seat. Those little boats could be paddled with one hand, making a figure-eight motion in the water, leaving the other hand free to hold a cane pole or rod and reel.

On one occasion Daddy, David, Uncle Robbie and I went bream fishing on a local pond. I was about 8 or 9 years old. It was decided on the way there that David would go in the boat with Daddy and I would go in the boat with Uncle Robbie. I can tell you that I had my doubts about that arrangement.

Now, let me state that Uncle Robbie was one of the finest men that I knew. They just don't make 'em like him anymore. No one was kinder or more generous.

He had a pleasant demeanor and was just a good person. But he could also be a little bit of a prankster, especially with me, because of my fiery temper.

The pond we would be fishing in was surrounded by a fence that held cattle. When we got there we unloaded the boats from the back of the truck, loaded up our gear and started toward the pond. Uncle Robbie and I were in the front dragging the boat, and when we got to the fence we stopped.

"Hold that wire up for me Dan'l, and I'll slide the boat underneath," he said innocently.

Well, I just reached over and grabbed the bottom strand of wire and lifted.

It was an electric wire, and I had never encountered one before. I didn't know what was shocking me and didn't have the presence of mind to let it go.

Finally, he reached over and pulled me away, choking back his laughter. Even to this day I can not bring myself to touch any kind of electrical wire. I should have realized then what the afternoon would be like.

We got the boats in the pond and started fishing, and they were biting. We were using cane poles rigged with popping bugs. The bream were just tearing up those top water bugs. I was in the front of Uncle Robbie's boat and was catching at least two for his every one.

I had even started bragging about catching more fish than him. That was a mistake!

Finally, he said, "Let me see your bug, it don't look like it's sitting in the water right."

I pulled in my popping bug and turned around and handed him the line with the bug dangling below.

To my utter astonishment, he chewed the little rubber wings off the sides of the bug and handed it back to me. I really had my doubts about that adjustment but went ahead and cast my bug back out on the water. It didn't float like before and would suspend just below the surface. He caught several nice bream, and I didn't catch any more with my chewed-up bug.

Daddy and David were fishing nearby, and they were catching some bream. Now, I was the only one not catching any.

So, I protested to Daddy that I thought Uncle Robbie had sabotaged my fishing. Uncle Robbie took out another popping bug from his tackle box and said "Here, try this one," but before he handed it to me he chewed the wings off.

That was about it, I had just about enough. But I kept on fishing with that chewed-up bug. I wasn't going to let him get the best of me.

Finally, I hooked something. Something big! It was a huge bullfrog. You just can't imagine what it's like to have a bullfrog hooked on a cane pole.

He lunged and jumped, and all I could do was hold on. Uncle Robbie laughed till tears ran down his cheeks. Finally the line broke, and the bullfrog was gone.

Uncle Robbie hollered over to Daddy and asked if we were fishing or hunting bullfrogs. That was it!

"Take me to the hill," I demanded. "I'm not fishing with you anymore."

He paddled over and let me out on the bank, all the time protesting that I shouldn't get mad, but I was steamed, to say the least. I walked around the pond to get closer to where Daddy and David were fishing and to get farther away from Uncle Robbie.

When I got close Daddy asked, "What's the matter?" as if he didn't know. I didn't need to go into any detail because I knew he had been following the events of the evening.

All I could say was this, "He may be your brother, but he's no uncle of mine." Everybody laughed, and to this day I recall those days with fondness.

Reach Dan Geddings at cdgeddings@gmail.com.