Fish Just Don t Care
Below is a MRR and PLR article in category Recreation Sports -> subcategory Fishing.
Fish Just Don’t Care
Word Count: 611
Summary:
A rainy day of fishing taught me that fish are indifferent to the weather.Keywords:
fishing, fish, trout, stream, worm, bobber---
Fish Just Don’t Care
Many years ago, I discovered a little secret about fishing: fish simply don’t care if it rains. We've all joked about fish living in water, so rain doesn't bother them. This thought often comes to mind as I'm standing on a mossy bank, casting a rooster tail into a gentle stream. But unlike most, I have a true story to back it up.
Years ago, my Dad, Uncle Fred, Cousin Freddie, and I were fishing in the creeks and streams of Eastern Oregon. It was overcast but warm throughout the morning. The fish were biting, though it wasn’t particularly noteworthy. We would work a stream for a while, then hop in our trucks and move to the next spot. The setting was beautiful, and the companionship enhanced the experience, blending peaceful moments with good conversation.
Uncle Fred and Cousin Freddie decided to move ahead to try their luck at a specific spot before the clouds grew darker. Meanwhile, Dad and I lingered a bit longer. After a few more bites, we also decided to move on. But as soon as we hit the road, the skies opened up, rain pouring relentlessly. The closer we got to our destination, the harder it rained. Upon arrival, we exchanged glances, daring each other to brave the storm and step out of the truck.
As the rain continued, we sat in the truck, watching the creek race by. It became clear the rain wasn’t stopping anytime soon. My Dad suggested we should head home once Fred and Freddie returned, and I agreed, albeit reluctantly. I had hoped for a chance to fish one last spot.
After a few restless minutes, I had an idea. Certain there was a fish waiting to be caught, I decided to try my luck. Without raingear, I refused to stand in the downpour, but I wasn’t giving up. I rolled down my window and maneuvered my seven-foot pole out of the truck. My Dad dodged expertly to avoid the pole’s butt. Perhaps desperation had taken over.
With a few attempts, I flicked a worm into the water. Seconds later, it was “fish on!” Amidst laughter, Dad rolled down his window, and I carefully brought the Rainbow trout through the truck cab. We couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of the best fishing trips I can remember, not just because of the fish but because of the shared joy with my Dad.
And the crucial lesson? Fish just don’t care about the rain.
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