I’ve mentioned in the past that wife Rosemarie loves to go fishing. Being the faithful, supportive, sacrificing husband that I am, I will accompany her. She’ll fish; I’ll read a book or otherwise keep myself occupied. And too, I will fulfill the role of assistant schlepper and help her lug her gear to and from the site. This has been the fishing “format” we have been following for years. There is one important notation I will bring to your attention: she never, never, never catches a fish worthy of taking home and having for dinner. But that’s ok. She simply enjoys “feeding the fish” as she puts it.
Since we moved to Naples, Florida two years ago, one of Rosemarie’s favorite places to feed the fish is the Naples Fishing Pier. This modern structure is a mix of human-made wood that does not rot supported by several tons of concrete that juts out a few hundred feet into the Gulf of Mexico. It is a mecca for people who like to fish and who possess the two requirements for having a good time: a fishing rod and hope.
Besides the smell of bait, there are usually a few other annoying aspects of the sport of fishing that cause it to be a turn-off to me. One of these pesky items is the pelican. Yep, the pelican. These rather large, grungy-appearing, big-beaked species hang around fishing piers and are relentless fish hunters. The pelicans at the Naples Fishing Pier are especially adept at dive-bombing Kamikaze-style into the water after small fish who wander too near the surface. I will admit that the pelicans do provide a good amount of entertainment as they soar high, spot a fish and then come full-speed, head-first into the water.
I suggested to Rosemarie that she might pick up a fishing tip or two by observing the diving birds. She didn’t seem very receptive to my comment…or should I say she didn’t take the bait. Okay, I’m sorry. Puns have always flowed freely for me and in this case I was just casting about…