fishing as an addictive behavior

Emerald blue waters of Maramec Spring in south central Missouri. It’s not exactly trout Shangri-La. Adjacent to this blue lagoon is a hatchery providing dinner for hungry fishermen.  I have early morning memories of waking up to the fish whistle and marching down to the river with my dad.  Nine year old me usually caught weeds. 

Emerald blue waters of Maramec Spring in south central Missouri. It’s not exactly trout Shangri-La. Adjacent to this blue lagoon is a hatchery providing dinner for hungry fishermen. I have early morning memories of waking up to the fish whistle and...

I took this pic in fall 2018, at least 20 years after my first visit here. I still remember my Scooby fishing pole’s ability to clear out a nice patch of shore for myself. I blame fishing for my later addictive personality. So, it’s like that rat that gets caffeinated water every 173 time it pushes the button right? It doesn’t give up, it PUSHES THE BUTTON 173 times, over and over and over. Same with fishing. SAME WITH MUSHROOM HUNTING. Guys, it’s like an illness. Just wait till morel season – things are gunna get real on this blog. Stay tuned.

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