Back to our Roots

So this weekend's carp adventure wasn't as bountiful as we had hoped. When we got home, H wasn't fully satisfied. Later on that night he brought out his Fly-O and stuffed Bass. It was time for some payback.

Since a year and half, we have been putting the hurt on stuffed fish around the house. Stalking them down hallways, in bedrooms, and hidden away in closets it has been a favorite pass time of Hudson's and mine.

Game goes like this: I hide fish, then we sneak around together looking for the toys poking their noses, tails, and other parts out from hiding. When a target is spotted we take a knee and watch. Hudson and I usually talk about where the fish is positioned, how you would approach said fish, amongst other fishy-strategy.

In the end we always do the same dance: Hudson casts, hooks, and pretend-battles the fish. Followed by a photo, and release finish to best the biggest hero-shot holders in the business.


The entire experience allows us room to practice and talk about things that happen on the water; in a relatively uneventful living room-like environment. For example our last adventure pictured throughout this post we discussed praying to the gods. I told Hudson when he hooked up and a fish jumped he needed to pray with his rod and lay it down close to the water, but still hold onto it. Until the fish landed back in the water and then it was game-on all over again.

It usually takes a few renditions of our game for it to sink in, but eventually he nails it. Look at our previous posts for proof. How many other three year olds do you know out there, Sleeping In the Dirt?

Until next time, a dad in love with his son.