Father’s Day icon

 

The walleye is one of a few icons that call my dad to mind.  He died ten years ago. I still miss him a lot and think of him often. Our fishing trips, when I was young, were pilgrimages north, a few times a year. He loved the  woods of Minnesota as much as he loved the fall fields on the prairie.

We fished for walleyes, only walleyes. We caught northern pike, yellow perch, bass, crappies, sunfish and, on rare occasions, eelpout and bullheads. They all went back into the lake. Only “keeper” walleyes came home with us.  My dad fished for walleyes and hunted pheasants in a moderate way.  He went out occasionally, when time allowed, and nearly always with his boys. He fished and hunted with slightly higher than average skill and understanding. Success measured in fish and game birds for the table was never great, making each good fish caught or bird bagged a cherished prize. When I fished or hunted with my dad  there was always enough competence, family heritage and love  involved to make the experiences memorable.

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