Flying Fish Alert! You've probably seen the story. We had it on FirstNews Tuesday morning. On a river in Illinois, Asian Carp are leaping out of the water. Apparently, they get excited by the vibrations of boat motors and go airborne. These scaly sorts are not the best of fishy friends. They're not good for eating and too good at breeding. There is a fear that they will overtake other fish populations and, frankly, they are a little dangerous. I just got an e-mail from a viewer who said that, last year, she and her husband were fishing on the Missouri River and he was telling her about these so-called flying fish. All of a sudden she took a hit, in the noggin, from a 30 pound, 32 inch member of this gilled group. Her husband was roaring with laughter while she beat the thing with her lawn chair. So, they don't taste good, they are a little too frisky...if you know what I mean, and they can't be that smart, despite being in schools, if they are actually jumping into a fisherman's boat.

As a little kid, I would go out in the yard and dig up some worms, take my cane pole, head down to the little pond at Bluffview Courts Retirement Village where I lived and my grandmas also resided. Rumor had it that one of the residents had taken it upon himself to put fish in the pond. I would catch little blue-gills and feel like I was a guest on American Sportsman with Curt Gowdy. I always threw them back. As I think about it, maybe I was just catching the same one over and over. Maybe, even for the fish, this was nice little diversion.

Sometimes, on family vacations up north, things would get a little more serious. We'd actually go to a bait shop, use rods with reels, get up before sunrise and head out onto the lake in our little boats. Now, I had gotten pretty spoiled by fishing at my little pond. Even if it was the same fish I was catching repeatedly, at least there was action. From the boat, it usually required lots of false starts until you'd find a hot-spot. And, even then, it wasn't usually hot...more like luke warm. There were times our neighbors went up north with us and then their oldest son and I would go out in our own little boat. That was not the way to give the Gorton's fisherman a run for his money. We never caught anything. We'd mostly talk. Every now and then one of us would doze off. We did make the minimal effort of putting our lines in the water so that if our dads looked over from their boat, it would appear we were trying. But, I don't really remember ever baiting the hooks. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Paul would've grounded us for life.

There was a time when my dad, Ron, took one of my brothers, Mark, and I to Governor Dodge State Park to fish. (I have always thought that "Dodge" was a great name for most politicians. Anchorboy Kris Ketz claims that the late Wisconsin Governor Dodge is a distant kin. Of course, he also calls his wife Josephine, walks around with his hand tucked in his jacket and insists the rest of us call him "Your Excellency." He also refuses to acknowledge the existence of Waterloo, Iowa.) Anyway, my brother was a grown person by this time with a wife, kids and mustache of his own. I was a teenager. The day was quite uneventful. We may have even caught a few fish. On the way home, for some reason, my brother and I started reading every single billboard we saw in loud, overly-enthusiastic, big-time radio DJ voices. "Hey Culligan Man! Call Ernie at 555-WAWA!" "You Can Trust Your Car to the Man Who Wears A Star!" "All Stopped Up? Call Rotor-Rooter!" Then, we started in on highway signs: "45 Miles Per Hour!" "Slippery When Wet!" "Watch For Falling Rocks!" This went on for about 45 minutes. Then, Ron gave us the look that said we'd better stop or we'd be walking home. Under his breath, I think he called us a pair of Bass Pros or something close to that. Anyway, I never did know why, out of the blue, he took my brother and I fishing that day. I do know, he never did that again.

Obviously, I've never been much of a fisherman, but visiting Grandma Wanda and Grandpa Gordy at the lake, has given the kids many chances to reel one in. The first time Samantha ever caught a fish, she was about three. She and her brothers had been out on Grandpa Gordy's boat for a pretty good stretch. She showed no fear or revulsion about the worms or the fish. She loved every slimy minute of it. One of the best photographs in our house, shows the silhouette of Samantha and Grandpa Gordy looking at her first fish. For me, that snapshot was the best catch of the day.

There have been other fishing adventures like the time in Branson when little Taylor hooked Grandma Kathy in the cheek or the current took Alexander's rod, reel, bobber, bait and fish down the river. And, truth be told, there have been times, especially when Grandpa Gordy has gotten a credible tip in the barbershop, that we have actually brought home several meals from a day on the water. Still, it's the fun, the camaraderie, the memories that make a day of fishing fun. Whether the little creatures fly into your boat or not.