The Boy Who Loved to Fish

The wind blew through the trees. The sun was partially hidden behind the clouds. Bobby sat on the edge of the dock dangling his feet in the water and waited impatiently for a bite. He grasped his pole loosely in his hand and listened to his grandfather’s gentle snoring.

Bobby loved the lake. He came every summer with his grandpa and went fishing. The lake was surrounded by trees and the water was crystal clear, perfect for fishing and swimming. They usually camped for two or three days and cooked the fish they caught over a fire. They also spent time swimming and hiking.

Bobby stared out across the water at the horizon. He could see sailboats docked on the far side of the lake. They were most likely preparing for the annual race. The air was crisp and quiet. Bobby shivered slightly and pulled his jacket tighter around him.

He turned at the sound of the leaves rustling behind him and saw his grandpa slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He yawned loudly, stretched, and sat down next to Bobby on the edge of the dock.

“How’s it comin’?” Grandpa asked.

“Haven’t gotten a bite all day,” Bobby sighed.

“That’s all right,” Grandpa said. “Just be patient.”

“I’m bored though,” Bobby complained. “I would really like to catch all the fish in the lake, but I can’t do that if I haven’t even caught one yet.”

Grandpa smiled and sighed. “There sure are a lot of fish in the lake. It would take you a really long time to catch them all,” he said.

Bobby set his pole down beside him and rested his chin in his hands.

Grandpa sat back for minute and scratched his head as if in thought. After a few minutes he perked up and a grin crept across his face.

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I tell you a story while we wait for a bite. The time will pass faster that way,” he said.

“Okay,” Bobby replied brightly.

The two of them leaned against a tree next to the dock to wait and Grandpa told his story.

“Once upon a time,” Grandpa began. “There was a young boy. This boy loved the outdoors. His favorite things to do were fish, swim, hike, and camp in the woods.”

“He sounds like me,” Bobby exclaimed.

“It does sound like you,” Grandpa agreed. “This boy liked to spend summers at his grandpa’s farm so he could spend his days fishing for trout in the pond on his grandpa’s land. His grandpa had taught him to fish when he was very young, and the boy could spend hours just sitting on the dock waiting to catch one fish.”

Grandpa stopped for a moment to get a drink from the thermos next to him, but Bobby pressured him on.

“Keep going,” Bobby insisted.

“Okay,” Grandpa said. “One day, the boy had extraordinary good luck. He caught fish after fish without any problem. The boy ran home excitedly to tell his grandpa.”

“Grandpa,” the boy said. “You won’t believe how many fish I’ve caught.”

“No probably not,” his grandpa agreed. “How many?”

“I’ve caught 100 fish,” the boy went on.

“You don’t say,” his grandpa said, surprised.

“No really,” the boy said breathlessly. “Come see for yourself.”

So, the boy and his grandpa went down to the pond to see all the fish the boy had caught that day. The bucket was filled to the brim with trout. The boy was ecstatic.

“That sure is a lot of fish,” the boy’s grandpa said.

“I know. Aren’t you proud of me?” the boy asked confidently.

“I am, but there is just one problem,” his grandpa replied.

“What’s that?” the boy questioned curiously.

“Now there aren’t any more fish in the pond. You caught them all, so there won’t be any the next time you come to visit,” his grandpa said.

Grandpa paused again. Bobby again urged him on.

“What happens?” Bobby asked. “What do they do about all the fish?”

“Be patient,” Grandpa demanded. “I’m getting to the part.”

“Okay,” Bobby said approvingly.

Much to the boy’s dismay, he could no longer fish in his grandpa’s pond because there were no fish left to catch. He was very upset by this.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” the boy said. “I should’ve put the fish back instead of piling them in that bucket.”

“Well, let’s think about this a minute,” his grandpa said. “I bet there’s some way we can put fish back in the pond.”

“We can’t put those fish back in the pond, Grandpa,” the boy cried. “They’ve been lying in that bucket for hours. They’re all dead.”

“Maybe there’s something else we can do about it,” his grandpa assured him.

“Like what?” the boy asked.

“Let’s sit here and think about it for a bit,” his grandpa replied.

The boy and his grandpa sat under a tree next to the pond and thought for a while about what they could do to put fish back in the water. The boy was very angry with himself for catching all the fish. He wasn’t so excited about his accomplishment anymore. He decided it wasn’t really that great of a feat after all, and he hung his head in disappointment.

“I’ve got an idea,” his grandpa said. “Let’s go down to the market and buy some inexpensive fish to put back in the pond. You can feed them every day until they get big enough for you to catch.”

The boy smiled brightly. “That’s a great idea,” he said.

The boy and his grandpa made a trip to the local market and bought some new fish for the pond. They also bought some fish food.

As they were coming back from the market, the boy spoke up. “Grandpa, I think after I catch the fish now, I’m going to throw them right back so there will always be fish in the pond.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” his grandpa agreed.

From that day on the boy continued to fish, but he always threw the fish back into the pond. He was able to enjoy the pond for many years after that. He even told his little brother what happened and taught him how to fish as well. The boys spent many great summers fishing at their grandpa’s pond.

Bobby smiled broadly as Grandpa finished his story. “That was a great story, Grandpa,” he said.

“Thank you,” Grandpa said, flattered.

Suddenly, Bobby felt a tug on his line. He jumped up excitedly.

“Grandpa, I caught one! I caught one!” he yelled.

“Pull hard on the line, Bobby,” Grandpa reminded him. “Pull hard. Don’t let it get away.”

Bobby yanked on the line with all his might. His pole was bent from the tension. The fish was putting up a good fight. He gripped the pole as tightly as he could and gave a huge tug.

Finally, the end of the line and the fish emerged from the water. Bobby fell to the ground, exhausted.

“Wow, that was awesome,” Bobby cried.

“It was indeed,” Grandpa agreed.

“I think I want to throw it back into the lake, so that every time we come here, there will always be fish to catch,” Bobby said. “Next time we come, I will only catch enough fish for us to eat and throw the rest back into the lake. This way, other people will be able to enjoy fishing at the lake too.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Grandpa replied.

Bobby and Grandpa spent many days and many summers after this one fishing at the lake. They even taught Bobby’s brother, Brady to fish too. But they told him Grandpa’s story, and both boys always caught only enough fish to eat and through the rest back into the lake.