MY FIRST BOAT RIDE 



tice he is telling the truth before he dare open 

 his mouth about fishing, Jusf because my 

 pencil happened to slip once v/hen I was de- 

 scribing a fishing trip on the Cottenwood River 

 in Northern Minnesota many years ago is no 

 sign I cannot tell the nude, naked truth if I try 

 hard enough. I am and always have been a 

 'dyed" in the wool crank on fishing ever since 

 boyhood. 1 began my first fishing in a small 

 creek that ran near our cabin. Ay first fishing 

 outfit consisted of a red willow pole, a shoestring 

 line and a bent pin for a hook. Grasshoppers, 

 grub worms and angle worms were the bait. 

 Chubs and sun-fish were the kind of fish I 

 caught, if any. Sometimes 1 would go fishing 

 at night for cat-fish, and do very well until that 

 big swamp owl would hoot "Who are you," and 

 that would end my fishing for that night. The 

 summer that I was eight years old Father took 

 rrfe wrth him to the Kankakee. We were fish- 

 ing from the bank at North Bend, which I have 

 mentioned before Whilst we were fishing 



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