Brook fishing didn't require much equipment, and when I first started brook fishing all I had to take was some angleworms, a few feet of fishing line and a few hooks, and some small sinkers. When I got to the brook we could find a suitable sapling to cut for use as a fishing pole. We tied the fishing line on the end, and also tied on the plain fishhook. Any excess line was wound on the end of the pole and by simply baiting the hook with an angleworm, I was ready to go fishing. Most of the time, during the summer months we never wore shoes or sneakers, so we never gave it a thought about getting wet as we waded into the clear, cold water that the trout require for their habitat. The cold water even felt good, especially on warm days.

When I got a little older a friend of my father's gave me a telescope fishing rod and reel, along with some spinners, sinkers, and hooks, when we were making preparations to go trout fishing at Sawyer brook. I have written about this incident in a previous article so I won't elaborate more on this event. With that gift, I was able to go fishing with all the equipment I needed. All I had to do was to go out in the garden and dig some angleworms and I was ready for fishing. I was fortunate enough to live in a rural area with numerous streams
and rivers, so many times we could walk to our chosen fishing spot. I, like many of my friends, got excited about going fishing, in anticipation of catching a "big one." I remember when I was around ten years old of going fishing with a neighbor, the late Roy "Sonny" Perham, Jr.. Sonny was an avid fisherman, and knew of several places where we could catch brook trout. I was surprised one day when he took me to a really small brook that was hardly two to three feet across. It was the outlet of a boggy area and ran from the bog for about a quarter of a mile, through some brushy lowland and out into the edge of a field, on down to a feeder stream that ran into the Little Androscoggin River. Before we even got to the stream Sonny confided in me that he knew of a huge trout that was in one of the deeper pools of that unnamed trickle of water; and instructed me to be sure to sneak up very slowly along the banking before dropping my baited hook into the water.

We fished our way downstream, and managed to catch some nice brook trout, that would run from six to eight inches long. I remember how dark they looked, and how pretty the red spots were on their sides, after we "yanked" them out onto the banking, where they flopped around until we managed to pounce on them. We had fished nearly half way down to the feeder stream when I noticed Sonny being extra cautious as he approached a small pool. The brook, at that point was about three feet from one banking to the other and as near as I could tell, the crystal clear water was about three feet deep. I stood a few feet behind Sonny as he ever so slowly crept through the grass on his stomach, finally reaching the point of where he could view the pool. After only a few seconds, Sonny slowly moved back away from the pool, and looking at me, excitedly exclaimed: "I just saw him, and he's a whopper!"
Then he told me that we would sit and wait for several minutes before he would drop his baited hook into the pool, so that the big brookie wouldn't know we were around. It seemed like eternity to a youngster, like me, but I suspect no more than a few minutes passed before Sonny extended his telescopic fishing pole, adjusted the line to the length he wanted and cautiously eased the hook, baited with an angleworm, into the pool. He let the bait rest on bottom, and it was only a matter of a few seconds before the line began to move quite rapidly. Sonny reacted quickly and set the hook. His rod bent quite a lot as that trout tried to get away, but Sonny had it hooked well, and almost instantly the trout was pulled up out of the water and came flying though the air; landing in the tall grass, where sunny quickly grabbed onto it. Wow! What a trout! I could tell immediately that it had to be more than a foot long and had a real deep belly. No wonder Sonny had been so anxious to try to catch that trout. Now that he had his prize, he told me that we had better take him up to the village and get it measured and weighed at the Nation Wide store. We were about a mile from the store but it didn't take us very long to get there, but all along the way we kept admiring the trout. Who ever would believe a trout that large would be living in such a small brook? The trout was weighed and measured by the store owner, and he told us it was thirteen inches long and weighed three fourths of a pound. In this case it was "the one that didn't get away." We fished that tiny brook many times in later years, but never came any where near catching a trout as large at that one. Every girl or boy who fishes dreams of catching a big fish, and watching Sonny catch that nice trout sure made an indelible imprint on my mind and made me want to keep trying; hoping someday my luck would be as good as his was on that summer day.

As I grew older I learned some of the tricks about brook fishing from watching others. I also learned that the best time to go brook fishing was when the black flies and mosquitoes began to bite. Another sign to look for, at least in my part of the country, was when the leaves on the bushes opened out to be as big as a mouse's ear. I generally found the fishing best on an overcast day or when it was raining, so your shadow wouldn't be cast onto the water. In spite of this knowledge I still went fishing whenever I was asked, whatever the weather, providing I had permission from my parents. Just to be out enjoying "Mother Nature" was worth all the effort involved in traipsing along beside a trout stream. When I first started fishing for brook trout the limit was twenty-five trout per person. That later was reduced to fifteen per day per person and later was reduced to a daily limit of five trout. Of course we couldn't carry twenty-five trout in our pockets so the easiest way was to cut or break off a branch of a small tree or bush, which may a sort of "Y" shaped stick. We simply slid the single part of the stick up through the gills and it would not slide off because of the spread of the branches. If we fished all day, we had to keep dipping the trout that we had caught in the water to keep them from drying out. I was one of four brothers, and two sisters, in our family so there was never a problem of having them cooked to a crispy brown and devoured by the whole family.

When I was a teenager I continued to enjoy fishing and often had some of the boys in the neighborhood accompany me while I went fishing. By this time I was also interested in fishing some of the many ponds in the area where I lived. These ponds contained a large variety of fish, which included, brook trout; brown trout; salmon; large and small mouth bass; pickerel; lake trout (togue); smelts; as well as several warm water varieties, such as: white perch; hornpout, pickerel, suckers, shiners, etc. For the most part, fishing these ponds depended on a persons ability to get to them.

A few years after I was married, my wife and I had three children. We were fortunate enough to live beside a small mill pond that was fed by two trout streams that came to a junction beside the home where we lived. As our two sons and daughter grew up, they didn't have to go far to enjoy trout fishing. We could watch them by looking out the windows of our home. I also took them fishing on either of the streams that ran into the mill pond, as well as downstream below the dam that held the water in the mill pond. I also remember taking the young daughter of our neighbor, who's real name was Hilda, but we called her "Froggy".. Sometimes in the evening, she would tease to come along with me, so we'd head out, walking over to the nearby meadow with our fishing pole, to try some brook fishing. If she got tired I would pick her up and carry her on my shoulders. She must have thought that was great fun because throughout the summer she always asked to go when she knew I was going over to fish on that stream. As my children grew older, they also went with me and after they learned to swim, we allowed them to go over to fish for trout, by themselves.

We eventually purchased a lot on a pond in Woodstock, Maine, and built a camp. After it was completed we stayed up there throughout the summer months, as often as my work would allow me to get away. This provided an excellent opportunity for not only our own children, but nieces and nephews, and other relatives, as well as friends of our family, to come fishing, either from shore or out on the pond. My first boat was a flat bottom wooden row boat, that I built by myself. I purchased a five horsepower outboard motor to use with it. All the children enjoyed trolling for white perch. They are relatively easy to catch, because they run in schools and can be caught either by still fishing or by trolling spinners and worms, or lures. A bonus is he fact that they are excellent eating, especially when filleted so they are free of bones. They also fished for bass, sunfish, and anything that swam and would bite their hook. Many years later our grandchildren came and enjoyed fishing, especially for white perch. There is no size limit or bag limit, so they got to keep all they caught, if they chose. I always insisted that they cleaned what they caught because I did not believe in wasting any. At first they didn't know how to fillet them, but as they grew older they learned. Sometimes this requirement served as a deterrent, to keep them from catching and keeping too many perch. They learned to catch what they wanted and to throw the others back

Several years ago I remember one summer day when our grandson, Nate, and his cousin, Carol, came up to visit. Of course they wanted to go perch fishing, so I tended the outboard motor that I used on my fourteen foot aluminum boat. It just happened that that day was perfect for catching perch. Slightly overcast, and the water was calm, and they were biting the bait like crazy, as we trolled around the pond. The grandchildren were having so much fun that I believe you could have heard them laughing all the way across the pond. We caught all the perch we wanted to clean, so came in and I took care of removing the filets off from them, as the grandchildren watched. The following day we had a real good feed of white perch, dipped in an egg batter with crumbs, and fried to a golden brown. To this day both of those grandchildren speak of that special day they enjoyed fishing together. Now we are beginning to have our great grandchildren come to enjoy the fishing, and you know what? Grampa enjoys it as much as they do!

Two years ago, in August, while we were at camp, we received a call from our son, Ron, telling us he was coming down to try to catch a few feeds of white perch for his freezer. Later that afternoon we also received a call from our Grandson, Nate, who said he was coming over for an overnight visit. Not long after that we received a call from our Granddaughter, Kelsey, and she wanted to know if she could come up to visit and planned to stay overnight. She also wanted to know if we had room for two of our Great granddaughters, Adrianna, and Karliegh. We told her about Ron and Nate, and then said we had plenty of beds, so come along. All of them were also looking forward to fishing for white perch the next day. We all retired early that night because I told the rest that the best fishing was early in the morning. We all got up and were out on the pond soon after daylight. Ron and Nate used one of my canoes, while Kelsey, and the two young girls went out with me in my aluminum boat. The white perch made a liar out of me, because by seven-thirty AM, we only had caught a couple of "keepers." We had all planned to be back at camp by eight AM for breakfast. We still had a few more minutes to fish so went to another part of the pond, and finally found some really fast fishing. Kelsey and I hooked the perch, then let Adrianna and Karliegh reel them it. The action was fast and furious and the youngsters got very excited, and were really enjoying themselves. Ron and Nate noticed us catching perch, so they came over to the same area and found a huge school of white perch not too far from where we were fishing. So now everybody was "in on the action", and before long I announced that it was time for us to go have breakfast. That met with negative reactions from all the rest. Everyone said they were having too much fun to stop fishing now. I agreed that we could stay a little longer, but would have to eat before too long. It was nearer to nine AM before the youngsters decided it was time to eat. Besides, we had quite a few white perch in our bucket(s). We were catching fish by trolling; from my boat; but Ron and Nate had simply stopped paddling their canoe and were still fishing. Their system worked like a charm and they were each often hauling in white perch with a fish on each line.

After the breakfast break, we had to clean the many white perch that we had caught. I got out the filet knives, and Ron and I filleted those we had caught, while Kelsey and Nate washed and packaged them for the freezer. We also saved enough for a good feed for dinner at noontime. Ron and Nate told us they were going out and take advantage of the fast fishing. They wanted more white perch for their freezers. I don't recall exactly how long they were gone, but when the came back they had a five gallon pail half full. Again, they got out the filet knives and went to work and managed to get them all done before dinner time. They all said that they had never had such good white perch fishing, and I had to agree. It had been many years since they had been biting like they were on that hot August day. Grammie Lamb and Kelsey got things ready for our noontime meal and I went to work dipping the filets into an egg batter, and then into a crumb mixture consisting of corn meal; crushed soda crackers and crushed corn flakes; all blended together. I fried them to a light golden brown and placed a heaping platter on the table, along with the vegetables and other goodies that the women had prepared. And, as the old saying goes: "They ate the whole thing." How pleased we were that all of them came and had such an enjoyable time. . A few times a year I like to go down to South Pond to fish for Lake Trout (Togue). This involves going by boat from North Pond, to Round Pond, and into South Pond. The gear I use is heavy trolling spoons, with lead line, and sewed bait, trolled slowly near bottom. Sometimes it isn't very exciting fishing, because a person may troll around the pond without a strike. When the togue are biting the fishing can be interesting and chances of catching a big fish is possible, because togue up to twenty pounds have been taken from the pond. When my son Ron got old enough, he asked to go with me, trolling for togue. I rigged him up with a rod, using lead line, and a heavy rod and reel, suitable for catching big fish. When we arrived at the pond, the first thing I did was to sew on smelts to our respective hooks. With this done we headed out across the pond in about forty feet of water under the boat. We slowly fed out our lines, lowering our baited hook and spinners towards bottom, as we trolled slowly along. We hadn't gone more than thee hundred yards when I got a strike and set the hook into a togue. I told Ron that he would have to bring in his line so that we wouldn't get our lines twisted with one another. Ron started cranking in his lead line, with the big spinners making a lot of drag. Ron complained that the line was really coming in very hard. I told him it just felt that way because he wasn't used to fishing with such heavy gear. Eventually he got his line up near the boat when he felt a tugging on his rod. He said: "Father, I've got a togue on my line." All the while I continued to keep steady pressure on my line so the togue would stay hooked on my line.

By this time Ron had his line near enough reeled in so I caught a flash of his togue, and then I was sure he did have a fish on. With my instructions, he was able to bring the togue in beside the boat and managed to net it. After he had his fish inside the boat I played the togue I had on and when it got up beside the boat, Ron netted it for me. All I said was: "Boy, that was quick!" We hadn't been fishing ten minutes and had two nice togue to show for it. After thinking about this unusual event, we came to the conclusion that the togue he caught must have hit Ron's bait while he was playng out his line, and hooked itself. This was the first time that Ron had ever tried trolling heavy gear for lake trout, so wasn't used to the action of the line and spinners. As it turned out, his fish was larger than the one I caught, but both fish weighed nearly four pounds apiece. We caught more togue that day, but we will never forget the unusual circumstances involved when he caught his first lake trout.

Several years ago, Milt Inman, and his late brother, Vernon, as well as myself, decided to take our sons on a weekend fly fishing trip to a lake in northern Maine. Of course this delighted the boys, and we made plans for the trip that came in early June, soon after schools recessed for the summer vacation. Anyway, we arrived at the lake and soon had our campsites set up, and gear in place. We had arrived in the early afternoon, so everyone was anxious to get everything ready so we could go out in our boats for the evening fishing. As far as I know, none of those youngsters were experienced fly fishermen, but all were anxious to try their luck with this type of fishing. That evening we caught a few trout but I decided it was time to get out the fly tying kit and see if I could concoct some type of fly that the trout would like. I decided to try to tie a wet fly made up from a variety of colors of buck tail hair. It was really a variety pack, made up of a few sparse hairs of white, yellow, red, light blue, and black. They were quite easy to tie, and I made several that evening after we got in from fishing. We decided it the trout liked that fly I could always tie more so everyone could have some. As luck would have it, the following morning the trout hit that unnamed fly with continued ferocity, as it was stripped along near the surface. Of course the boys were quite boisterous, and attracted the attention of other fishermen who watched with interest as the boys caught trout. One man in particular, who was fishing from a canoe, kept moving in closer, but he never spoke to any of us. We finally concluded he was interested in finding out just what sort of fly we were having such good luck with. With that in mind, someone in our party spoke up and said quite loudly: "Gee, don't these Red Ants work good!" With that remark, everyone in our party began to agree, in tones loud enough for that intruder to hear. It wasn't long before he left, headed back down the lake. We never really knew, but we all believe that he was headed out to find some Red Ant flies. Many years later we are still laughing about that incident.

The memories of including the youngsters on these pleasant fishing experiences will always be on our minds to our dying days. This applies not only to us parents, and grandparents, but to the youngsters as well.
I hope that by including them we have influenced their lives by getting them interested in fishing. You can be sure that when a youngster is fishing he, or she, isn't going to get into much trouble. The rewards are worth all our efforts to get them out of doors, enjoying Mother Nature.

Copyright 2005
A. Sayward Lamb