![]() |
#5
|
|||
|
|||
Some of my fondest memories are spending a summer fishing off a pier with my older brother on a small man-made lake near my boyhood home. We used cane poles and when you felt anything that even resembled a bite, those poor hapless catfish and carp were yanked from their watery homes towards the heavens.
![]() ![]() Who said there's no such thing as flying fish??? ![]() |
Thread Tools | |
Display Modes | |
|
|