I’ve previously written an article about the importance of passing on our knowledge of nature and outdoor pursuits, mentioning that the young people we instruct today may be the ones to give us geezers a few more opportunities to enjoy the outdoors in our future, declining years. Many of us have had the privilege of someone mentoring us in the ways of the outdoors. Maybe a father, grandfather, uncle, older brother, friend or even a sportsmen’s group guided us.
My father and grandfather were my first mentors. They taught me respect for the outdoors and fishing and hunting ethics. We killed nothing unless there was a good reason or we had a use for it. They taught me much about the fish we were fishing for and the prey we were hunting. I was very fortunate to grow up in a family operated fishing and boating business on Oak Orchard Creek. Many guys who kept boats at our docks often took me fishing and passed on valuable tips.
One mentor that sticks out from my youth was a fellow named Phil Podgers. Phil had lived in the area his entire life and often hung out at our boathouse. Born about 1900, he’d lived through some tough times. His generation of rural folks learned to live off the land, often grew their own food and worked on farms or whatever jobs could be found. They all hunted, fished trapped and, I’m sure, did a fair share of poaching! Phil told me many stories about illegal gill nets and spearing gamefish for survival in some cases.
Phil took me under his wing when I was about 12 years old. He started me trapping muskrats and raccoons. He was the perfect example of the rugged outdoorsman in the well-worn denim jacket, black industrial hip waders and grizzled complexion.
Every trapping season ‘til I was 17, Phil and I went many miles on Oak Orchard Creek either in boats or walking the ice trapping “rats” or “coon”. The last 2 years walking the ice, Phil would say ”Let’s take a break.”, pop a nitro pill in his mouth, rest 5 minutes and we were on our way again. Phil taught me to skin, stretch and flesh our furs to get the best price. He also kept up on which fur buyers were paying the best price.
In 1962, through Phil’s connections, we started a profitable fish business from spearing carp.
As soon as spearing season opened in March, we were on the water most every night spearing carp and bullheads, no matter what the weather. One fond memory is a cold, snowy night in March when we speared so many carp, the boat sank in about 5 feet of water. We refloated the boat and stayed out spearing to get more carp. We couldn’t disappoint our customers. The very slow two-mile trip to the docks was so cold our clothes were frozen.
Phil also found a secret place to get swill worms. They had white rings and yellow blood and were very popular bullhead bait at that time. We supplied all the local bait dealers, for a handsome profit.
Our last adventure together was running licensed set lines for bullheads and getting some bonus eels. We did that for 3 years and sold the bullheads for $1.50 a dozen and would clean them for an additional ten cents each.
The year I turned 18, Phil turned the ripe old age of 65.The hard outdoor life caught up to him and he passed that December. My final tribute to my mentor was when I was a pallbearer at his funeral but the 6 years we spent together participating in outdoor adventures and the tales of the mythical old days are still treasures to me.
Now, as the years have crept up on me, I have many fond memories of being a mentor for many young people and a fair number of adults. It’s a privilege and a very rewarding experience to have been a mentor, an avenue for others to enjoy whether it was through taking them fishing, gathering bait, trapping or pheasant hunting with my shorthair pointers.
