We enjoy fishing, and eating fish. We do not enjoy wasting - catching to fill limits, instead of catching to fill bellies.
I packed our camp stove on the boat that day, along with some batter in hopes of having a shore lunch. I had oil and a frying pan, a few plates, and napkins.
We spent the morning fishing off a small Canadian island while Kid napped on the boat. Hubs navigated toward the north side of the island, where he promised calm waters. His eyes were set on the best landing place. A place that wasn't too rocky, but wasn't thick with trees and brush. He secured the boat, we unloaded. Hubs carried the basket of fish and stove. Me, the baby and a few other supplies. He cleaned the fish as he thanked them for being our lunch (never had I heard him do that before). Kid and I played in the water, examining crayfish and throwing sticks.
We ate quietly, listening to the lake, the trees, and the birds. Seagulls arrived shortly after cleaning the first fish. Before the fish were frying, six more had arrived, and one hungry pelican. We continued to eat, watching the birds circle closer and closer, each one landing in the water and watching us eat.
We heard distant thunder and decided it was time to pack up and head back to camp. We left fish scraps for our avian friends and reloaded the boat. Pushing off the rock, we moved slowly, watching the seagulls and pelican enjoy their lunch. Three turkey vultures arrived, looking for a small meal as well. Everyone had their fill.
We secured our canopy and suited up in rain gear. Hubs flipped on the GPS; we headed for home. Our shore lunch was, indeed, a success, and a tradition I'd like to continue throughout Kid's life.