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Fishermen are liars with good PR. We label our lies as “stories” or “tales,” but at best, they are half-truths. While I could go down a rabbit hole of right versus wrong, I will stray into the nature versus nurture argument. Are fishermen born liars, or are we taught how to lie?

Growing up, if you asked me what a fisherman was, I would say my maternal uncles. Uncles Al and John seemed to be always getting ready to or just getting back from fishing. Uncle John had a corkboard with Polaroid photos pinned on it of past fishing trips. Looking at this board, I was convinced they caught limits of largemouth bass and Striped Bass whenever they put their boat in the water.

They never taught me how to lie… I mean, tell tales—but I would hear their stories. One involved a fishing tournament when they were in separate boats. Uncle John caught a decent bass early on and made sure Uncle Al knew it from across the cove. Uncle Al pressed on with determination and caught a few bass. It was a frustrating morning for him. The tough morning was made worse by seeing and hearing his brother celebrate every 15 minutes with another fish.

Back at the boat ramp, Uncle Al was ready to accept defeat and asked Uncle John how many he caught. To his surprise, John replied with a mischievous grin, “Just one. I’d hoot and holler every 15 minutes and take the same fish out of the live well.”

Now, Uncle Al and Uncle John never said, “This is how to tell a fish tale.” Instead, they spent time with me, and through exposure, I learned the half-truths that bolster a fishing story. If someone asked you how you did, the answer was always “Pretty good,” unless you did pretty good. In that case you say that you “Struggled to catch a few. Tough fishing conditions today.”

A group of neighborhood kids armed with fishing rods walked through my backyard to the river to fish on Sunday. The oldest is ten years old and when his zeal for fishing is matched with an acquired knowledge, he will be unstoppable.

I walked down to the river with a spinning rod in hand to join them. The youngest of the boys followed me to a spot and watched me fish. In his hand was a fishing rod outfitted with a bobber and a hook six inches beneath it with a plastic baitfish attached. There was no way he was going to catch a fish with that set up.

I was just about to explain that due to the water clarity, we probably wouldn’t catch a fish when a small bass attacked my lure. Calmly, I told the youngest to hand me his hook. I was going to put the bass on his hook, and he could walk ten yards to the other boys and claim victory. 

He proudly walked down the path, and the boys erupted in amazement. Congratulatory cheers echoed through the river bottom. The oldest asked “What did you catch it on?”

The youngest responded, pointing at me “I don’t know. He caught it.”  I shook my head at the missed opportunity. It was not in his nature to lie or tell half-truth about fishing. 

I am forever indebted to Uncle Al and Uncle John because nurturing is more important than nature when learning to tell fishing tales.