We unloaded his own personal kayak, which only entailed my rare, demurring assistance to get down off the roof of the car. However, I was having myself a substantial amount of enjoyment, though I may not have conveyed this to him at this moment. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the pole that he provided me, as I was just enjoying myself on such a peaceful, quiet, serene lake in southeastern New York. Eventually, I begged him to show me the best nearby fishing spot. He enthusiastically got underway with his feet leading the way, indeed. We arrived at what he assumed to be “the spot.” He cast his line into the water precisely where he wanted. After a few casts and reels in, he slowly pulled up the slack in his line and shouted “Nothing here! Let’s make an effort over there,” as he pointed a ways up the embankment.
At which time we got to where he wanted, I had noticed the immediate area engulfed in blueberry bushes. It seemed to be the absolute best blueberries I had ever consumed in my life. After I had my fill, I positioned the raggedy pole in what I considered a casting position and attempted to toss the line in the water. After just a few failed attempts, I had it down. I pitched the lure into the stand, and at the very moment the spoon stroked the water, a 10-inch bluegill snapped at it. Like I knew just what I was doing…like I had been doing this for my whole life, I pulled it up and right to lay down the hook, then reeled in the slack as I positioned the tip toward the fish.