The Nature of Fishing

One of the things I admire about the National Wildlife Federation (NWF) is their commitment to working with sportsmen’s groups to achieve their conservation goals. NWF recognizes, through programs like Vanishing Paradise and other affiliate groups, that sportsmen have a long and rich tradition of supporting conservation. These partners make NWF more effective and engage a broader base of stakeholders, often from across the political aisle.

And while there are occasions where what the overall conservation community wants and what sportsmen want might differ, the core issues are shared: supporting clean water for people and for wildlife, protecting habitat for all species, and, most pressing in these crazed times, protecting public lands. All of us want places for people, wildlife and the full range of outdoor recreation activities that are a high priority for so many Americans.

Hunters and anglers are pushing back against the current federal government assault on our public lands. Places lost to development and exploitation, clear cuts, and massive road networks are lost to sportsmen just as they’re lost to all of us. What unites traditional conservation groups, outdoor recreation enthusiasts, and sportsmen is so much stronger than what might divide us.

I’m not a hunter. I understand its conservation value and cultural tradition, particularly in the Gulf South, but I was raised in a family of fishermen. 

I believe that hunting for well-managed game species is an essential part of conservation and culture, particularly in a rural area like the one in which I live. But I love to catch fish. Well, I love to try to catch fish.

My grandfather was a fisherman. His diet was mostly based on things that swam. He could fish the smallest pond or along the Gulf, but he always caught what he ate. I don’t recall a meal we shared where fish was not on the menu. He taught my brother and me to fish, and I still have one of his old fly rods. 

He hunted in his youth while growing up in rural Ohio, but that was to feed a large family. Fishing was an art, a hobby, a pastime like watching boxing or baseball, that was engaged in with friends for enjoyment. And to catch and eat a mess of fish.

My dad was a fisherman as well. I have a lot of his gear, and it means the world to me. He grew up in the depths of the Great Depression, born to immigrant parents in New York City, where there wasn’t much time or space for fishing. After Pearl Harbor, he was called into the U.S. Army, and he began thirty years of travel and service, many of those years decorated for time in combat. To find solace and peace, he found places to fish with good friends and fellow soldiers across the world.

For the last fifteen years of her life, my mom and I regularly went fishing together. We traveled to Jekyll Island, Georgia, every summer. We loved catching Atlantic Croaker. We fished along Tampa Bay, the Nature Coast, and the Withlacoochee River. It was a hobby we shared until she passed.

I come from a family of fishermen. What strikes me is the incredibly diverse people who have been a part of that journey. Different races, cultures, socio-economic backgrounds, and ages, all sharing a love of the rod and reel. Some for sport, some for sustenance, and all at some level to connect with nature.

That, to me, is the power of working with and speaking to sportsmen. Many of the conservation issues we value have been falsely consumed by the culture wars and debates over ideology. Climate change can instantly divide people by political affiliation. That is, until you can connect it to the places we hunt and fish, and the future of those activities.

I fish because I love nature. I love the deep, profound connection to nature that fishing creates for me. When something takes my line and the magical pull begins, I am connected to the world below the water’s surface. 

My grandfather would gently laugh and chide me for my catch-and-release practices. So many good meals gone to waste! But I am in no danger of succumbing to hunger, and I try to think of the ecosystem, not just my stomach, these days. When I am out there on the river, I think of my grandfather. I think of my mom and dad. And I think of how amazing it is that we can share generational memories across the past and future through our connection to nature. Perhaps that is the true key to conservation. And as my grandfather would remind me…fish are tasty!

Joe Murphy is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist with the National Wildlife Federation’s Gulf Program. He contributes these blog posts as a NWF alumnus and supporter. Joe is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives in Florida’s Nature Coast.