Too close to home of late

I’ve been staying close to the house for a few weeks.

Too close.

Yesterday I found myself out in the garage casting a crankbait at a five-gallon bucket.

I’m ready to go fishing.

Friends of mine -- fortunate to live where there’s open water -- have been fishing since this all began. They call me from the lake and the river, send me pictures, tell me where they’re headed next.

It’s painful. The last fish I caught was through the ice, which until recently was still there. Now it’s finally gone and I’m beginning to twitch.

When I lived in Livingston I would start fishing regularly in March and hit the hatches on the Yellowstone until spring runoff muddied the river in late April or early May. It was the best fishing of the year.

A pond south of Malta filled with pike became my favorite spot to start the fishing season up here, but it winter-killed in 2017.

Until a few years ago I would get my spring angling fix in Florida with redfish and sea trout, but after we bought a cabin on Fort Peck, we quit the Sunshine State.

So I’ve been doing nothing but waiting for the ice to melt and it apparently has. A neighbor at the lake posted a picture online yesterday of his first walleye of the season. More importantly, there was open water in the background.

We’re headed there shortly.

I need that fix, the feel of something live at the end of my line. Something I can feel but can’t see, until a flash of color rises from the depths.

I’m an emotional guy and expect to cry like a little girl when I catch that first fish. Hopefully it’s a keeper because throwing back the first fish of the season is extremely bad luck.

The pictures my buddies have been sending me don’t cut it. Good for them, but if I’m not fishing I’d prefer to think no one else is either, at least not until next week when I post a fish picture. In the meantime, keep it to yourselves.

It was a long winter and this is a very strange spring. Let’s hope fish on the line help bring a little normalcy back into our lives.

Besides, I’m getting tired of casting to a five-gallon bucket. And I’ve yet to get a bite.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected].