It was one of the few times my dad didn’t want to take me fishing.
Every morning on the way to school, Mom and I passed a little roadside gully. It wasn’t much to look at. The water was stained, the banks were choked with weeds and brush, and from the road it looked more like a drainage ditch than a place anyone would ever fish. But every time we drove past it, I wondered what might be living beneath that muddy surface.
I begged Dad to take me.
He wasn’t convinced there could be much there, but eventually he gave in. It didn’t take long before my red, white and blue bobber disappeared beneath the surface. A few moments later I was holding a spotted gar nearly two feet long. To most people it would have been an odd-looking fish from an insignificant little ditch. To me, it was the beginning of a lifelong adventure.
Looking back, that fish was only part of what I caught that day. I caught a sense of wonder that has stayed with me ever since.
That roadside gully wasn’t the only place where I discovered the outdoors. There were ponds tucked behind country roads, little creeks winding through the woods, stock tanks on ranches, neighborhood lakes and quiet stretches of shoreline where bluegills, bass, catfish and crappie all offered the possibility of another adventure. I have learned that nearly every lifelong angler has one of those places—a spot that wasn’t famous or expensive, but one that became unforgettable because it was where everything began.
Those humble waters have launched countless conservationists, wildlife photographers, fisheries biologists, game wardens and outdoor communicators. They have introduced generations of children to God’s incredible creation in a way few other experiences can.
That is more important today than ever before.
Children are growing up surrounded by screens. Social media competes for every spare moment, offering a constant stream of entertainment, comparison and unrealistic expectations. It can become a place where every photo is filtered, every accomplishment is measured against someone else’s highlight reel, and too many young people feel as though they’re constantly being evaluated.
Fishing offers a welcome escape from all of that. Out on the water, no one is judging a child by the clothes they’re wearing, the number of followers they have or whether they fit someone else’s idea of success. Nature doesn’t mock them, criticize them or ask them to live up to impossible standards. A farm pond doesn’t care how popular they are at school. A winding creek doesn’t compare them to someone else. The fish certainly don’t care. Those quiet places simply invite them to slow down, breathe deeply and enjoy the world God created.
Instead of scrolling through someone else’s adventures, they begin creating their own. They notice dragonflies hovering over lily pads, turtles slipping quietly from sun-bleached logs, and a kingfisher rattling across the water. They begin asking questions about the fish beneath the surface, the birds overhead and the tracks pressed into the muddy bank. Before long, curiosity turns into appreciation, and appreciation often becomes stewardship.
Scripture tells us that “the heavens declare the glory of God.” I’ve found that His handiwork is just as evident beside a farm pond or winding creek as it is atop a mountain.
Some of life’s greatest lessons come during quiet moments spent outdoors, where there are few distractions and plenty of opportunities to listen—not only to the sounds of nature, but to one another.
Some of the best conversations between parents and children happen while waiting for a bobber to disappear beneath the surface. Without televisions, notifications or endless interruptions, there is time to laugh, tell stories, answer questions and simply enjoy being together. Years later, children may not remember every fish they caught, but they almost always remember who was standing beside them. Those shared experiences build relationships in ways that are difficult to duplicate anywhere else.
One of the greatest things about introducing kids to fishing is that it doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, the simpler it is, the better. You don’t need a high-dollar bass boat or tackle boxes filled with specialized lures. A neighborhood pond, a farm pond with permission, a quiet creek, a stock tank or a public fishing pier can be the perfect classroom.
Start with simple equipment. A light spinning outfit or even a cane pole, a small hook beneath a bobber and a container of earthworms will catch bluegills almost anywhere they swim. Those colorful little fish are ideal for youngsters because they bite readily, fight hard for their size and keep children engaged. Every bobber twitch builds anticipation, and every fish feels like a trophy. Once a child catches a few bluegills, you can introduce them to bass, catfish, crappie or whatever species swims in your local waters. The important thing isn’t chasing trophy fish. It’s creating positive experiences that make them want to come back.
Keep those first trips short and fun. An hour or two of steady action is usually far better than spending an entire day waiting on a bite. Let children explore the shoreline. Turn over a rock and see if there are crawfish hiding underneath. Point out turtles, frogs, butterflies and birds. Watch an osprey dive for a fish or listen to a chorus of tree frogs as evening settles in. If the fish stop biting, skip rocks or simply sit together and enjoy the quiet. Remember that the trip is about much more than filling a stringer.
Those outings also become natural opportunities to teach conservation. Children quickly learn why we pick up litter instead of walking past it, why we respect private property, why we handle fish carefully and why clean water matters. Long before they understand habitat management or fisheries biology, they begin to understand stewardship. They learn that God’s creation is a gift and that caring for it is both a privilege and a responsibility.
Over the years, I have been blessed to fish some incredible places, from remote rivers and coastal marshes to mountain lakes and sprawling reservoirs. Those destinations are unforgettable, but they all trace back to simple beginnings. They trace back to overlooked waters that many people passed without a second glance. They trace back to adults who were willing to invest a little time in a curious kid with a fishing rod.
As parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and mentors, we spend a lot of time wondering how to prepare children for the future. We worry about the influences they’ll face and the pressures they’ll encounter. One of the greatest gifts we can give them is surprisingly simple. Hand them a fishing rod and take them somewhere close to home. It might be a forgotten creek, a farm pond, a cattle tank, a city park lake or a quiet stretch of river. The destination matters far less than the opportunity to spend time together outdoors.
They may remember the fish they caught, and they’ll certainly remember the one that got away. More importantly, they’ll remember the person who took them there. They’ll remember laughing over tangled fishing line, celebrating a hand-sized bluegill as though it were a state record and sitting quietly as the sun settled behind the trees.
In a world that constantly demands more of our children, fishing reminds them that they are enough. It gives them a place where they can simply be kids, surrounded by the beauty of God’s creation and the people who love them most.
And somewhere along the way, between the first cast and the last ripple on the water, they’ll discover that the greatest thing they brought home wasn’t a fish at all. It was a deeper appreciation for the Creator, His creation and the priceless gift of time spent together.
Chester Moore
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