It's Dad's Birthday. Otherwise, I had planned on sleeping in.

There's really no such thing as sleeping in when you're on a fishing vacation with my father. And by sleeping in, I mean "past 7 a.m." Really, your only hope is to pray for rain - even if just for the morning (I hear that tomorrow will be that day)- or cover the windows so he can't see the light.

Unfortunately, my father is too clever for all of that, and has an internal clock that ignores Daylight Savings Time and never runs out of batteries. He's been telling us for years that the fish eat breakfast early, but I'm fairly certain that a) they don't eat lures for breakfast, similarly to how we don't eat, say, hamburgers and b) I've never caught a fish prior to 10 a.m.

We've tried keeping him awake late, but that doesn't work. Dad seems only to require a few short hours, his dog, some really strong coffee and a really good breakfast to get going.

I require Starbucks.

(I haven't found one within a 10 mile range. I'm fairly certain that I'd have to drive 40 minutes to Burlington to find one. And I wouldn't survive the ride each morning.)

But for Dad, we woke early, we fished... then we fished some more. And then I made cupcakes, and then we fished.

And now? Now we sleep. And we hang black tarps outside of Dad's windows so we can trick that internal clock of his. (Just kidding, Dad! I just drugged your cupcake. No, just kidding about that too... kind of....)

Here's to you, Dad. On your birthday. Thank you for always taking our pike and pickerel off and for teaching us the finer points in fishing - and life.



As for our four year old fishing buddy today, we did indeed fish with my nephew. He did indeed catch fish... including a toothy creature (more on that fun tomorrow).