"Grandpa, I don't want to kill any more worms."

Kennedy (left) and Molly Junker proudly display a bluegill they caught on an early spring outing, before Kennedy felt sorry for the worms and decided they should be released.

                                                                          

        “Grandpa, I want to fish,” said granddaughter Molly as we walked to the mini-barn where she saw some of my fishing tackle hanging on a wall.

“It’s too cool and windy,” I countered. “Maybe later.”

A short time later while checking my propane gas grill on the deck, “Grandpa, can we fish now, Molly pleaded. “I really want to fish.”

“But, it’s still pretty cold and windy,” answered Grandpa again.

Then, granddaughter Kennedy joined forces with Molly. She too wanted to fish.

“Well, we might try it after while, if the wind settles down a bit. I’ll go get some worms,” I offered. And off I went to buy a container of worms at a local bait outlet. I figured the girls just might forget about fishing.

But, they didn’t. The wind was still blowing, but the girls weren’t convinced we should postpone the outing any longer. We didn’t.

I picked out a small rod and reel and told the girls we would take turns catching fish. With the strong wind coming out of the west, I didn’t want the girls (Kennedy six and Molly seven) casting by themselves. There was too great of a chance of a hook ending up somewhere it shouldn’t. Like in one of the girls, or me.

I sat in my old chair on the lake bank with the girls along side. Each wanting the first opportunity to catch a fish. Since the previous day was Molly’s birthday, she had the first chance.

Worm loaded onto the hook, I cast against the wind. The worm no more than hit the water and the slim bobber settled into place, and a fish pulled it under the surface and out of site.

“Here,” I said to Molly and handed her the rod and reel. “Reel, wind it in...Keep the rod up.”

She turned the reel handle and after a brief battle landed a fish. She was excited, but I was a bit worried. Would there be another fish around  for Kennedy to catch?

Molly’s fish was unhooked and returned to the lake. I cast out again for a waiting Kennedy.

Another fish hit, and I handed the rod and reel to Kennedy with the same instructions her sister had received a couple minutes earlier.

Kennedy brought in another bluegill. She was delighted, and proud. “I caught a fish,” she grinned.

Several more times, I baited the hook, and the girls brought in fish. Then the action began to slow.

The girls had become more interested in the worms than the fish. They had opened the bait container. First they just observed the wiggling worms, but then both had a squirming worm in their hands. Most young girls don’t even like to look at gyrating worms. Admittedly, that may be sexists. Most young boys aren’t thrilled about them either.

We caught several more fish, and Kennedy watched with considerable interest as I baited the hook.

A funny look came upon Kennedy’s face. 

“Grandpa, I don’t want to kill any more worms,” she announced.

That’s something I’d never heard before from a youngster. We fished a little longer, and the remainder of the worms were saved.

About that time, the girl’s big brother, Denver arrived on the scene. He had been paddling my little boat on the lake.

“I can’t believe she likes worms,” said Denver. “Kennedy is even terrified of ants.”

And despite the concern for the worms, I think both girls soon will be ready to catch more fish. Guess it is time to change bait to beemoths or artificial jigs.