The Family That Fishes Together... (Tips From A Fishing Mother On How To Introduce Your Child To Angling)

As a mad keen angler and dedicated mother, Jo Moyle-Reiter (now Starling) struggled with the yearning to go fishing clashing with the urge to spend all available time with her only daughter. A series of events across a two-year span brought the two diametrically opposed passions together…

Charlotte’s squeal pierced the heavy night air, its pitch prickling the hairs on the back of my neck. As I spun, eyes wide beyond what seemed natural, the desperation elevated as her squeal rung out again.

Standing at the bow of our 4.5m CrossXcountry boat, inky blackness masking the possible presence of crocodiles on this small billabong, my heart pounded so hard that my tongue punched the roof of my mouth from the pressure. There was a tackle box, camera case and centre console between me and my little girl…

As I threw the camera to my partner Steve, my mind lurched back two years to a fishing outing I shared with my daughter and my mate, Mandy. We took a trip to the tackle shop, stocked up on strong hooks, leader material and frozen squid, some heavy sinkers, a pack of balloons and a clutch of metal Raiders. We were going to throw everything at the fish population below Darwin’s Stokes Hill Wharf.

Picnic blanket, bottle of wine, radio and folding chairs in hand, three very green girls turned up at wharf and staked a claim on a patch of cement. Neither my girlfriend Mandy nor I had ever fished like this, but we decided to “have a crack”. It was an adventure we could have without getting ourselves into too much trouble… and we were up for that!

Agricultural rigging may work on cattle…

I have to confess, the rigs we fished that night were agricultural in the extreme. Knowing what I know now about fishing and the value of “being discrete” with your line, knots and rigs, it’s no surprise that we didn’t bother the fish.

It’s true to say, however, that every outing teaches us something, we just never know what form that lesson is going to take. My Stokes Hill Wharf outing with the girls gave me one of the most important insights into fishing with my daughter—one that would change our lives forever, given the fullness of time.

Charlotte was just four years of age at the time. She didn’t think too much of fishing, although she’d been accompanying me on trips since she was a toddler. All previous fishing pivoted around stinking hot, humid Top End days and many hours in a boat—no teddies, no toys, no fun. Small wonder she wasn’t keen!

Sitting and watching the balloon I’d thrown float out into the tide wasn’t proving all that entertaining to her inquisitive mind either. But one thing did capture her imagination… it was a hyper realistic soft plastic lure from my tackle box. Fascinated with its wriggling action, she amused herself casting it up along the concrete wharf and reeling it in. Whilst she too had no luck with the fish, the insight was like a stream of light the snuck through the tiny crack of a newly ajar door.

It was many months before we did anything together that remotely resembled fishing, except for a special trip to the tackle shop to stock up on soft plastics of her choice. They would nestle comfortably in her small, hot pink tackle box for some months before she was inspired to look at them again.

It was August 2009 when I received an email from my fishing club. Shimano Australia were flying Steve Starling, Brett Wilson and Jason Wilhelm to Darwin to run a workshop on Squidgies at our monthly meeting. Now, it should be noted that I was a complete ignoramus when it came to fishing circles. It was obligatory for me to join the fishing club in order to compete in the Barra Classic, which was a favoured pastime of mine. Other than that, I’d never been to a meeting, nor read a fishing article in my life. I learned all I knew through the friends and family I fished with, had no concept of who these people were and really didn’t care! They were presenting a kids’ class the following night, and in that I saw opportunity!

I was of the hard-bodied lure school and had never considered changing over to the soft-plastics side of the fence, but all parents know you need to leverage your angles when trying to achieve an outcome with your kids. The premise was that I needed to learn about softies because Charlotte liked to fish with them. She agreed that this would be a good thing and came along in support.

Clinging shyly to my arm at all times, my five year old listened intently, watched the demonstrations with intrigue and grew more and more curious each minute. At the end of the night when the Shimano team reminded us all that there would be a kids clinic the following night, Charlotte spun her pleading eyes to meet mine.

“Of course we can come back, honey… if you really want to, ” I smiled with satisfaction at the coup. Finally, my daughter had discovered an interest in the pastime I was longing to share with her!

The following evening saw Charlotte edge closer and closer to the stage, until she’d wormed her way into a front row seat. I was in awe as my painfully shy little girl transformed before my eyes. There was more bravery in every move she made than I’d ever witnessed before. Could it be that fishing might be the catalyst that would see her life blossom?

As the evening drew to a close, kids lined up to get their Shimano caps signed by the presenters. I lined up with Charlotte as she waited to have hers signed as a Fathers Day present.

Meeting Steve Starling turned out to be one of the most significant events of my life, second to only the birth of the little girl who brought us together. The strange awkwardness, hot flushing and tongue-tied moments might well have been attributed to me being yet another huge fan, except for the fact that I had no idea whom I was talking to. Steve and I just kind of “fell for one another”. It really was something out of a teenage romance novel.

As you can imagine, my narrow view of fishing had its concrete walls blasted to smithereens some months later when Steve and I first went fishing together.

It was a quiet couple of days on Lake Windamere, NSW. We were chasing yellowbelly or golden perch. The pressure was on for me to catch one, just so I knew what it was!

Steve handed me the skinniest wisp of a rod I’d ever seen, complete with a left-hand crank 1000-size spin reel (quite a shock as a right handed, baitcaster-wielding, broomstick rod waving barra fisho) and line you could mend a silk shirt with.

After a couple of well-phrased instructions from my mentor, I cast my awkward contraption, worked a few retrieves of the teensy little blade (another first for me) and before long, landed my first goldie! That little rod was bowing to the fishing gods like a dainty sumo and its reel sizzled hot, as if a feisty junior barra was ripping at my standard gear. But I didn’t just catch one or two like a typical barra session. We got right amongst ‘em and had a blast!

Suddenly, my fishing paradigm of sweltering beneath my cotton vented shirt for full length days after epic road trips to get to the barra spot—only to catch a single barra if I was lucky—became nothing but one aspect in an array of angling potentials.

Don’t get me wrong—I love barra fishing and all the trials and tribulations that make it the challenge that it is. But to discover that just as much fun can be had with far less discomfort, well… that was jaw-dropping, not to mention LIBERATING!

Can you imagine how much I wanted to share this “new” style of fishing with my little fishing buddy-to-be? No crocs, no sweat, no three hour drives for agonising long days! She might actually enjoy it!

My chance came early the next year when Charlotte and I flew to Steve’s home down south to spend some time with him. His local fishing club were holding a kids tournament, so we signed up and spent a very chilly day (by our northern standards) on Tuross Lake on the far south coast of New South Wales. Charlotte’s task was to present a bag of five legal fish, with no more than two of each species.

She was a little bemused at our first stop… the boardwalk in front of the Boatshed where we ordered brekky and a hot drink, put some bread on an unweighted worm hook and showed her how to let it drop freely in front of the noses of the fish.

The excited squeals that erupted on those planks when she hooked her first little fishy friend will never leave my memory—nor the jerking of the rod as she jumped up and down! To her credit, she calmed and wound in her first ever tarwhine. It measured legal and became “vanquished adversary number one”.

The day also saw us explore fishing with floats for mullet and gar, with Charlotte handing in a full bag and achieving third place in her division. Not bad for a kid who’d never caught a fish before in her life!

It’s almost a year since then and we’ve only taken Charlotte for land-based forays, catching diamond scale mullet and garfish in Top End waters where Steve has moved to join our little family. Like any kid, her interest wanes relatively quickly if the fish don’t want to play.

Earlier this day, we all decided to go for a little jaunt in the boat… Charlotte’s first run and the first time we’d fish for barra together. We chose a quiet little lagoon, fairly thick with pretty lilies, but with clear water so that she could see what was happening with her line. This would be the first time she’d fish seriously with a lure.

I rigged her up a small weedless Squidgy Wriggler, Evil Minnow in colour because she thought it was pretty. She’d opted for a baitcaster over a spin reel and we’d spent quite a bit of time working through birds nests and the ABCs of baitcasters. She diligently plugged away and at one stage warmed my core with three wistful, throw-away words spoken to no-one in particular… “I’m so happy!”

By the time night fell, none of us had brushed lines with anything but fickle long toms. The moon was late to rise but the glow of sunset’s last rays on the underside of a massive thunderhead provided some light between the distant lightning flashes.

Charlotte’s attention span failed (in fairness, she’d done very well for over one and a half hours) and she was thumping around the boat as if she never wanted to see a fish again!

“‘SHOOSH!” We’d say, explaining that the noise was even louder under water… our disapproval didn’t seem to perturb her.

As the moon broke the horizon and sent its eerie early fingers of light to caress the trees and reeds, Steve’s line jarred in his hand and the water’s surface shattered as a 75cm barra silhouetted itself against the thundering sky.

As Steve wahoo’d, I heard Charlotte quietly moan “Awww. I want to catch a fish!” With that, she up and grabbed her rod and headed for the stern. There she stayed, quietly and determinedly casting, de-nesting and retrieving.

The fat 75 dominated us grown-ups’ time for far too long. Photographing the darkened billabong barra against the night backdrop was impossible. Its tail was non-reflective and the poor fish took some reviving having been part of such a prolonged photo shoot. When it did kick and make its way back to the lily roots, Steve and I whooped and went to high-five one another… that’s when her scream tore the night!

Steve was deft when the camera flung in his direction. As Charlotte’s second squeal split the air, her line ripped the surface as a gleaming barra ruptured the lily pads and splashed back into the inky water.

As I leapt around the console, I coached her to keep the line tight. “Wind it, honey!”

The baitcaster worked hard to turn its weight downwards for a rest. Charlotte was fighting with her reel as much as she was with the fish! I reached in. “I’m not going to take over, honey… you can land this one yourself. I’m just going to hold the butt so the reel stays on top.”

“OK, Mummy,” she croaked excitedly between puffs.

It’s testimony to the stability of our little boat that we stayed upright when that fish came aboard. All three of us were jumping and hugging and crying. What a moment!

Charlotte’s first ever fish caught on a soft plastic was a noteworthy 61cm barramundi. For perspective, it reached from the casting deck to her hip!

Little were we to know that the pensive casts of soft plastic lure along a concrete pier by a bored little girl would lead to a shared passion that would ultimately bind a new blended family.

1. Remaining open to subtle hints from our children can illuminate unexplored aspects of fishing that could just be the key to capturing their imagination. These little insights are most likely to come from what they do to entertain themselves when boredom has set in. As they learn, they will mimic you and do as they are instructed to do, giving little indication of what they “want” to do. Left to their own devices with a tackle box full of colourful goodies, you may just find a quiet intrigue develops. Naturally, always supervise the littlies around tackle… that fascination can turn into consternation and desperation in no time!
2. Never take over when your child is on a big fish or simply having a blast. Instead, reassure and coach, tell them you believe that they can do it themselves and that you will support them.
3. Always interrupt frustration with some kind assistance (nested-up baitcasters are a prime example!) and try to empower your child to manage the same situation again next time. Instruction and explanation as to what you are doing to resolve the problem and why is extremely worthwhile. Your child feels respected, capable and ready for the next cast.
4. Remember to praise, congratulate and celebrate every success, even if it’s the success of a good cast or a solved problem.
5. It’s not a competition… it’s quality time. As angling parents, we shouldn’t necessarily expect that our kids will love fishing the way we do, but they may just love it their own way… and that is pretty cool!