Today, I girded up my paternal loins, and took to the field of battle. Mama Bear was away for the day, Mercury was aligned with Venus, and my psychic said the time was right to introduce the Daley triplets to hooks, bobbers, and panfish. So, at high noon, I found myself standing in the local Getty gas station, asking the proprietor if he actually sold the nightcrawlers advertised on a weather worn sign that hung loosely on the glass door. He nodded for me to follow him back into the beer cooler, pointed to a pile of Styrofoam cups, and without so much as a word - turned back to the register. After sorting through a half dozen polystyrene bowls filled with mud and gelatinous, decaying worm goo - I found the holy grail - a dozen healthy, wriggling annelids. It was an odd beginning to an otherwise fantastic day.
Madison struck first and proved deadly with her Tweety Bird combo.
Mikey sounds his barbaric yawp after striking pumpkinseed paydirt.
Emma thought her bluegill was cute.
But she wanted to take the worms home with her.
Nature girl.
Daddy, what happens if I pull on both ends?
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