He had been up since before the sun had a chance to shine through his curtains. His alarm was set to go off at 4:30 am to Fishing in the Dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band—the best song to match his favorite pastime, but he’d been awake long beforehand. He had already packed his truck the night before with all the essentials: rod and reel, tackle box, and the camo hunting chair his dad gave him. In his room he sits, all dressed to look the part of “outdoorsman”, even topped off with a Bass Pro Shops hat. Finally the song goes off. He lets it play for a bit, but not too long as to wake the rest of his family. Attempting to be a good brother, he does his best tiptoeing past his younger brother’s room and past his parents’ door, but heavy steel-toed hiking boots aren’t necessarily the best for sneaking around. “It’s the thought that counts.”
It’s a 35-minute drive to his fishing spot a few towns and a bridge away, but the drive is one of the best parts of the trip. His silver F-150 keeps him warm on these cool late spring mornings. He has a mix of his favorite country artists playing through his Bluetooth. Currently, it’s Merle Haggard crying out about his mother attempting to keep him out of trouble but ultimately ending up in prison. Each word coming from the speaker is matched word for word, tone for tone, and emotion for emotion by him as he gets closer and closer to his destination. With each song that plays, the more into his outdoorsman self he turns, almost like a redneck werewolf who’s triggered by beer, fishing and country songs rather than a full moon. He knows how close he is to his destination now based on what song is playing. “One more song to go,” he thinks to himself with a smirk working its way across his face. He and Waylon Jennings are now singing about those Duke boys riding around in The General Lee getting into trouble with the law. He’s pulled into his parking spot now, but it would be a sin to turn the truck off without singing along to the rest of the song.
The drive is full of song and singing and being joyful. With rod and reel in hand and camp chair slung across his back, he begins his trek. The walk through the woods is the beginning of serenity. His phone is turned off, but the music is as loud as ever. It’s another 10-minute walk to the pond through the woods from his truck. To him, it’s a 10-minute masterpiece. The sun is peeking through the pines and oaks, accompanied by tunes of songbirds and chirping from chickadees. On this spring morning, even the gobble from a mature Tom turkey is heard through the canopy. As happy as he is to hear that particular bird, he can’t help but feel a little annoyed that he came up short when turkey hunting season ended a week prior. “Couldn’t have done that last week, you fuckhead?” talking to the turkey, though mumbling to himself. Frustration is soon turned to delight as he turns down the last dirt path and sees His paradise placed before him.
A slight blanket of morning steam still covers the glass water. An osprey sits on an overhanging branch on the opposite side of the pond. The golden morning sun illuminates it all as he stands entranced by its beauty. He’s seen it hundreds of times before but is never found bored of the sight to behold. He places his rod and tackle box down next to the stump that he uses when he forgets his chair. Thankfully, that won’t be the case today. He unfolds his chair and takes a seat while grabbing his rod and tackle box. Opening the box, he decides to use a spinner as his lure of choice. Largemouth bass was the goal today, and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less. He pulls out the line from this reel and strings it through the guide rings as delicately as possible. Thick and calloused fingers aren’t the best for this sort of thing, and even worse for tying any fishing knots. Years of practice and it doesn’t matter how big hands may get, this morning proves that he can still tie one mean fishing knot. He is almost at the moment of complete serenity. He takes one last look at his knot, looks to the lake, draws back his rod, and casts into the golden water, the first thing to break its glass.
William Laviguer
William Lavigueur graduated from Springfield College in May of 2023 after playing football all four years as a member of the ROACH Patrol and acquiring a major in Criminal Justice. Growing up in Newport, RI, he always had a passion for the outdoors, be it a 5-minute walk to the ocean or a 15-minute drive for a wooded hike. His interests include outdoor pursuits, such as hunting and fishing, weight training, writing, and wildlife photography. In his free time, William enjoys exploring more of his hometown and making pizzas with his girlfriend on Sunday nights. Currently, William is working at his Alma Mater, Rogers High School, as an assistant offensive and defensive line coach for football, and is working through EMT school in pursuit of becoming a fireman.