I grew up down by the edge of the Boulder river in Big Timber Montana. There were a couple of reservoirs in the area and there were a smattering of small lakes in the high country that could be reached when backpacking, but we didn’t have a boat and we didn’t know many people who did own boats. As a result I grew up as a shore fisherman. We fished bait from the trout opener in the spring until the peak of high water passed and then switched to spinners and lures until the water cleared and fished hoppers and flies for the month of August until we went back to school. We all got to be pretty good at fishing. The fish we caught were eaten. We didn’t know about catch and release. Since we had four brothers and the youngest was clearly a better fisherman than any of the rest of us, we engaged in regular adjustment of the catch in our creels and stringers to make sure that no individual was carrying more than the limit. There were some days when I came home with the limit but hadn’t actually caught any fish.

Part of the trick to being a good bank fisherman is good eyes. You can learn where to look for the big fish, but you have to have good eyes to see them. And you have to see the fish to be consistent in placing a dry fly so the fish will rise to take it. I had the most success with hoppers. We fished real hoppers and hand-tied “Joe’s Hoppers” from Dan Bailey’s Fly Shop in Livingston. Both were fished by floating them down into the riffles and pools were the lunkers were lurking. You didn’t have to see a fish if it took the hopper whole. That was the kind of fishing that I did.

We even fished from the shore when we went to visit our uncle, who had a place on Flathead Lake. He had a boat, but it was used mostly for water skiing and for sightseeing trips around the lake. I don’t remember ever fishing from the boat.

So I was an adult and a college graduate before I first landed a fish into a boat. I remember the first one very well. I had taken a group of high school youth to our church camp on Lake Metigoshe. There were a couple of canoes and after trying my luck at fishing from the dock, I decided to paddle out in a canoe and fish from it. I could see fish rising out beyond the reach of my cast. I didn’t really know what I was fishing for, but thought it would be neat to catch a fish and cook it for the youth who were with me. I was eager to impress them with my skills and prowess in a variety of different arenas. At any rate I managed to set a hook in a fish without knowing what I had on. It fought a good fight but I finally was able to get it alongside the boat. It seemed to be fairly long and a bit skinny so I gave the rod a jerk and managed to get it into the canoe with me.

Then I began to wonder how I might get it back out of the boat. The thing was big by the standards of trout that we used to catch in the river – over 18 inches and probably close to 2 feet. It was thrashing wildly and it seemed to me that it had whole lot of teeth. There’d be no getting my lure out of that fish until it was completely dead. And it didn’t appear to be planning to die anytime soon. I picked up the paddle, more as a defensive weapon than as an offensive one and tried to slide back as far into the stern of the canoe as I could go. The canoe was rocking and I was on the edge of capsize, something I wanted to avoid on the general principle that there were probably a lot of those fish in the lake and I could have made them pretty mad by hooking one of their clan. I had no desire to jump into a lake full of those toothy creatures.

At any rate, I survived and the fish didn’t. It tasted good fileted and pan fried in butter with a little flour batter. It did seem to have more bones than teeth and it had a lot of teeth.

Although I have canoes and kayaks and I love paddling, I rarely fish from my boats. I seem to have reverted to the role of a shore fisherman. I’m comfortable with that. From watching the critters, I know that some are shore fishermen and some prefer to fish the deep waters. Eagles and Osprey fish the deep waters.



Great Blue Herons are shore fishermen. Unlike the high flyers, the herons are patient birds, standing for long periods of time on a log or in the water, watching and waiting for just the right fish to come by in just the right place. When they actually strike at a fish, they are incredibly fast for a short burst. And they appear to bee good at fishing.

Yesterday I was paddling the smallest of my canoes. The ultralight “Wee Lassie” isn’t the smallest canoe made, but it is pretty small and quite light weight. I sit in the bottom of the boat with my feet out in front of me and usually paddle it with a double paddle like a kayak. The boat has no deck and is a great little craft for just playing around in the water. I was paddling around trying to get just the right angle to take a picture of the sunrise over the mist on the lake when I spotted a patient fisherman on the shore. The boat is quiet and I paddled gently and slowly so get a better look without disturbing the fisherman.

And I was fairly successful. I don’t have a fancy camera and if I did, I wouldn’t be inclined to take it in the boat with me. But I did get a couple of good pictures of the fisherman. And I admire his patience. I didn’t get to see him catch a fish yesterday, but know that he probably would have if I had had the patience to keep watching.

I hear that there are some northern pike in Sheridan Lake. I don’t know if they ever swim into the reeds at the edge of the lake, but I’d like to see a Heron latch on to one someday. If he were to catch a northern, I can guarantee he would earn his lunch that day.

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