Nine members of the Fisher clan invaded Door County, Wisconsin last week for five days of rest and relaxation. And just three hours into my summer vacation I was being summoned for grandpa duty.
I didn’t mind. I’d swap time with my grandson over being mentally-tethered to the office computer and phone any day. Besides, I had prepared for this moment.
Like most 3-year-olds, Zachary was eager to jump into the resort pool after a six-hour car ride. That brought some relief for the rest of us who listened to “Are we there yet?” and “How much longer?” for almost 300 miles.
Even after the dip in the pool though, the little guy was too excited to sit. So I asked Zachary if he wanted to go fishing for perch.
“What’s a perch?” he asked.
His mother, Elaine, was quick to answer. “They are the neatest-looking fish. They can be a pretty green and orange with black stripes down their sides. I remember when grandpa took me fishing down in the harbor and I caught my first perch.”
That was about 20 years ago when we first visited Door County. We’ve been returning to the Lake Michigan vacation spot most summers since. And while the perch fishing can be hit and miss, there’s something about catching your first vibrant-looking perch that you never seem to forget. I was set on giving my grandson the experience.
So $30 later (for a fishing license and nightcrawlers) we were hiking for the pier at Egg Harbor, about a 10-minute walk from The Landing Resort.
The Village of Egg Harbor owns the marina so public access is easy. Years ago anyone could walk the boat slips and pluck perch, rock bass and an occasional bluegill from in-between the docks. But in 2010 the village invested $6.5 million in restoring the marina, turning it from a fishing-friendly location into a money-making marina for half-million dollar yachts and sailboats.
As Zach and I walked down the hill to the marina I spied the harbor hoping to find other fishermen. I needed a first-hand fishing report from the locals. There was only one other guy with a rod and reel and he was near the end of a newly built breakwall that extends 800 feet into the Green Bay side of Lake Michigan.
That’s where Zach and I were going to fish, next to the one guy I hoped knew what was biting.
The breakwall features a walkway for tourists. On both sides of the newly-poured concrete are one-ton boulders to protect from pounding waves. Last Wednesday the lake was calm so it was safe enough to climb over rocks to get closer to the water. We ended up within talking distance of the old-timer.
I waited for the old man to make eye-contact before being the first to speak. Zachary broke the silence by insisting that he be the first to make a cast.
“Getting any bites?” I inquired as I baited a hook.
“Not many today,” the fisherman answered. After some silence he spoke up with, “Caught 12 yesterday and not a one today. Perch have moved out into the lake.”
As soon as he said it he tilted back hard to set the hook on a fish. Zach and I watched as he reeled his line in. On the other end was an ugly-looking round goby.
The old guy could see Zach’s curiosity so he swung his catch toward us so we could get a closer look. The fish was a solid dark gray with black spots. It had frog-like eyes and big lips disproportionate for its 4-inch body. The thing looked downright scary.
“Is that a perch?” Zachary asked. “I don’t like it.”
The old-timer piped up with, “That’s one of those goddamn gobies. They’re taking over the lake and ruining the fishing. Use them worms and you’ll catch nothing but these damn things.”
The guy then lifted his rod and unhooked the goby. Instead of tossing it back in the lake he pitched it onto the walkway. Within seconds a handful of seagulls were fighting to get to it first. One gull snatched it off the pavement and swallowed it whole as the others screamed in protest.
The old man smiled as Zachary stood amazed at the spectacle.
“I want to catch one of those,” Zachary said to me.
But our luck wasn’t kicking in just yet while the old-timer caught another one and said, “Another goddamn goby,” tossing it for the gulls.
Within minutes we had our first bite and Zach reeled in a chunky rock bass. He wanted to know if we could throw it where the birds could come down and get it. I explained that we shouldn’t do that with this kind of fish so I tossed it back into the water.
That was the only strike we had while the guy nearby kept catching gobies and each time he’d toss them ashore. It seemed like the more he caught the crankier he got at catching the ugly little invader species.
That’s when I took the bobber off Zachary’s line and cast it to the bottom. Within seconds the tyke had his first goby. He got to toss it on the sidewalk and the gulls were instantly diving after it.
We ended up catching at least 10 more gobies before a phone call that dinner was almost ready interrupted our fun. Zach and I left without catching his first perch and the old guy still cussing at gobies.
Zach couldn’t wait to tell everyone about the birds that would swoop down and eat our offerings. We got back to the condo just as dinner was being served.
Grandma Janet asked Zachary if he caught any fish. He gestured excitedly as he described how the birds came flying down next to us and ate our fish.
“Really?” Janet asked, thinking the 3-year-old was making up some kind of tale. “And what kind of fish were you catching, perch?”
Zachary corrected her, “No…they were goddamn gobies.”
My Bride gave me that look like what was I teaching our grandson now. That led to a lengthy explanation about the old-timer out on the pier, bringing slight smiles and nods as we changed the subject.
And I wanted to tell Zachary that, just between the two of us, it was okay to to talk like that about such ugly little fish.
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