The psychology of fishing

A couple of posts ago I wrote about what I see as the connection between photography and fishing. My sister commented with a question: Doesn't fishing require more patience?

In fact, the way I practice both pursuits might look like patience to someone who didn't know any better. If you watched me stalking a butterfly or a snake trying to get the perfect pose you could be forgiven for thinking me patient. But the dark truth is that I am no more patient than the gambling addict who sits in front of a slot machine all night hoping for a payout.

Back when my wife was in college she learned in her psych coure that the behavioral reinforcement of fishing is very similar to that of gambling and that fishermen often make compulsive gamblers. I've never tried gambling, but I don't doubt that this is true.

Let me explain it like this. It's very difficult for me to quit fishing once I start. If I'm catching 'em, I can't stop till I've caught just one more. If I'm not catching 'em I can't stop till I catch something. It's not patience, it's compulsion. Fortunately the addictions of trying to capture a fish or a photograph are relatively harmless (except to the fish of course). And I make sure not to go anywhere near the casino or the racetrack.

Photography and fishing

I visited an old childhood friend over the weekend. My friend is a country vet in Mississippi who keeps a few livestock, and his cow pond is loaded with big 'ol catfish.

Note that I have the camera case strapped around my chest and the fishing rod in my hand. Photography and fishing are my two thrills. I may offend both photographers and fishermen by saying this, but I see a link between them. I've noticed since I started posting to flickr that one of the most common compliments paid to photographs is "nice capture". For me, that comment defines the common thread between the two pursuits: the thrill of the capture.

In an earlier entry I wrote that I wanted to cultivate photography as an act of worship. So which is it -- the thrill of the catch or the glory of the Creator? Hmm, I'll have to think about that. Maybe the first of these is my real motive and the latter the motive to which I aspire. Or maybe the two of them really are compatible somehow.

Which one's uglier?
Originally uploaded by kosova cajun

Ray Janway
Originally uploaded by kosova cajun

I meet a lot of fascinating people on my travels -- preachers and atheists, hunters and vegetarians, hitchhikers and cab drivers, war-lords and peace activists, Albanians and Serbs, Christians and Muslims... I'm enchanted by the stories of these people, and one of the things I hope to do with this blog is to share some of those stories.

In that spirit, I'll start with a story told to me by this man, Ray Janway. Ray and his wife Betty recently opened their home to me for a few days while I was on business in North Louisiana. The hospitality they showed to me was truly amazing! Anyway, here's the story:

When Ray and his older brother Cecil were young children in southern Arkansas, their mother was a churchgoer, but not their father. He worked hard all week and fished all day Saturday and Sunday. He said that he didn't want to go to church because he figured that he couldn't be held responsible for what he didn't know. He would always take his boys fishing with him on Saturdays, but on Sundays he made them go to church with their mother.

One Saturday Ray and Cecil and their mom and dad were out in the boat fishing. They had fished for hours without so much as a nibble. Ray's father jokingly taunted the fish: "That's ok, don't bite. I'll just come back and catch you tomorrow. You won't get away!"

"If we caught a mess of fish, would you come with us to church tomorrow?" Ray's mom asked.

"Yes, if we caught a mess of fish, I'd come to church," he answered.

No sooner than were the words out of Mr. Janway's mouth than Mrs. Janway's rod bent double.  She shouted,  "Hallelujah!  Thank you Jesus!", as she landed a large blue channel catfish. After that the fish were practically jumping into the boat. They caught one after the other and many different kinds -- catfish, bluegill, bass, crappie.

The next day Mr. Janway was dressed for church before any of the rest of the family. He attended that week and the next and the week after that. After a month he asked to be baptized.

Cecil, the older brother, grew up to be a beloved pastor and eventually a denominational official in his organization, the Assemblies of God. Ray became an electrical engineer but was always active in church. Today he is retired, but he is a volunteer with the Gideons and helps to lead a ministry to the local parish lockup.  (Louisiana has parishes rather than counties.)