If you mean a real story about fish or fishing, that`s correct.

We were camping this week at Bass Lake Provincial Park near Orillia, Ontario. It`s open season for fishing there now and our son-in-law is among avid fisher folk who like to go out with reel and tackle. Only this time he wanted to show his  young daughter how to fish, so he bought a rod for her. Thus our little fishing expedition.
Off we went to the dock one clear morning with fishing rods, tackle box, worms and high hopes for catching a fish or two.

You have to know that I am not a fisherman, but a photographer who caught a good deal of the action, including several videos. Worms are fine in my garden, but I`m not about to handle them to put on a hook and dangle them in the water to catch unsuspecting fish.

Granted I have had experience in cleaning and gutting fish, when my sisters and I were children and went smelt fishing late at night with  our parents. The next morning, under our mother`s watchful eye, Mary and I washed and cut up the fish for cooking and freezing.

That is not what I was there to do this time; I was there to catch the action on my camera. In fact, all the fish went back in the lake, alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of Sarah`s fish. She caught both bass and sunfish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One little fishy back in the lake. “Bye, little fishy.”

In fact, our granddaugher was quite calm about the fish going back into the lake. Her mommy, who does not fish and stayed back at the campsite with her baby sister, would be equally as glad of the fish going back in the water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first our granddaughter held her own rod, then she gave it to her aunt, with the words, “ Me holp” which really means “ I will help you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After which she was delighted to help her daddy hold his rod

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… and watch the ducks swimming in the water.

 

And that is the end of this fish story.