I love to fish
BUT, if I had to rate it between all the other things I like to do, it doesn't rise to the top, Pun intended. I still go some but the 100+ fish days don't make up for the zero days, all considered, I don't think. I sometimes urn for the days when I had a can of worms, an old collapsible Bistol steel rod with a cheap bait casting reel and fabric line with a spinner and hook, walking the brooks all around where I lived, for Brook Trout. In those days, everyone could freely walk on anyone's land without permission, nobody cared. Fields were kept up so that bushes didn't obscure the brooks and Salters still ran in June.
Flatlanders bought the land and don't want anyone walking on THEIR land, never mind fish in the brook there The Salters are long since gone, I am told. Ah, the glory days! I am certain I had the great fortune to grow up in the very best time in America. I wouldn't want to be young for nuthin!
Where does the Possession thing come from when it comes to someone walking on another's land? Does it come from City Dwellers who never had any or where? It has remained a strange way of living to someone who grew up in complete freedom.
Pete