possumilk (US)

 I used to take my freedom to fish here in the United States for granted when I was younger. I assumed that everyone enjoyed the outdoors freely and the shallow banks of my favorite haunts will always be there for me and that they would never be threatened. I now know that the freedom to fish this great land comes with great sacrifice. Every fisherman who covets their fish filled back coves and wild rivers is forever indebted to those who serve our country overseas fighting to protect what we hold sacred. We should all remember those who have fallen in battle fighting for freedom. I do not like war or politics, but I value the opportunity to walk among woods free of terrorists and the only guns I see are pointed at deer, turkey and other wild game. Last week while walking through the woods on my way to a treasured fishing hole, I passed a hunter stalking some creature of feather or fur. I with rod and tackle in tow and he with a rifle slung over his shoulder decked out in full camo garb. We smiled in passing and left the other to the serenity of the woods with a mutual respect.

My best friend Joe and I have been fishing together since high school. He joined the air force and I went to college to pursue a teaching career. We continued to find time to fish together during leave time from the service. Although we could only reunite for one fishing adventure each year at best, those times were cherished greatly be each of us. Prior to Joe joining the Air Force we would be regulars on any local pond every week either ice fishing or out in the canoe. 9-11 changed our world. Joe eventually found himself fully engaged in the Iraq war when it began. Organizing fishing adventures became a bit trivial and survival was now the priority. It was difficult listening to the news and not knowing how Joe was during the battles that ensued before Bagdad was taken. Back in my classroom, I had my students write letters to Joe. He would later say reading those letters helped him realize what he was fighting for. When he called from Iraq with the weight of war in his voice, I remembered him say how when things got rough, he thought of days at home fishing on the pond. If there was anywhere he would rather be other than that God-forsaken desert he was trapped in, it would be out in the canoe catching bass with me on a quiet little pond. Not only was he fighting for the freedom of our country, our people, he was fighting for the things he loved at home. The freedom to fish.

Fresh off from a difficult deployment to Iraq, Joe came home to visit family and go fishing. He gave me a coin bearing the unit he served with. He said he carried it into battle and that he wanted me to have it. It was an honor. It was great to be back in the canoe together not fully understanding the sacrifices he left in the desert. I could see the war had been tough on him, but he still had a vibrant passion for fishing as we tore up the ponds like old times. We hauled the canoe through evil terrain to access untapped waters and launched fully exhausted from the trek which found us bloody from bushwhacking. Still dressed in military issue pants and boots he sported the latest GPS unit to plot our fishing spots. While fishing from the front of the canoe as we paddled into a secluded cove, I realized I was fishing with an American hero. Yet, at the same time he was still just Joe, virtually unchanged by the events he has endured. When the day was done and the plane beckoned, we parted and looked forward to the next fishing trip. The next trip would prove to be my wedding. Fittingly, my wife and I were wed on an island surrounded by the beautiful tranquility of Squam lake. Joe proudly served as best man. As I married my soulmate under a summer sky I pondered the future.

Joe would endure another combat trip to Iraq. But not before I returned the favor and served as best man at his wedding. Knowing that he was preparing to leave for combat after the wedding, I presented his new bride with a gift. The coin that he gave to me a year earlier. Framed in a box, I felt the coin protected him and she should be the one to have it while he is away at war and when he returns. Joe embarked on his second combat trip to Iraq where he sacrificed mind and body for the things he loves; his family, his wife, and fishing. Thankfully, he returned to his loving wife and later finished his time in the Air Force.

We still only get together to fish once or twice each year now that we are married and living 1500 miles apart. Those times are cherished now as they were then. I don't take for granted our freedom to fish here in the United States anymore. Fish to live, live to fish. Thank you to Joe aka; Badgermilk, for serving to protect our right to fish with friends and enjoy our nation's lakes, ponds, and rivers in peace. Soon we will trek across a snow covered lake with hand augers slung over our shoulders and tip-ups popping out of our back backs in the morning sun. We will both sprint to the first flag that flies up and watch over the hole with anticipation as the line is spooled off the reel. Some of our fishing buddies did not come home, your sacrifice is unmeasurable.

Thank you for Freedom and Fishing.