My passion for fishing began when I was just three years old. I remember the event vividly, as if it happened yesterday. Uncle Kolya took me and my father on a fishing trip.
We went to a small pond in our village, about three kilometers from home. Uncle Kolya brought along a small bamboo fishing rod with a goose feather float for me. He baited the hook, cast the line, and gave me a short briefing:
“If the float twitches, it means a fish is biting. Place your hand on the rod and get ready to pull. If the float sinks, lies flat, or moves sideways, pull it — the fish has taken the bait.”
I focused all my attention on the float. A few times, I missed the moment, and the fish ate the bait. But eventually, I hooked my first crucian carp! As you can imagine, the experience left such a strong impression that I still remember it to this day. According to witnesses, my eyes became as wide as saucers! Still, I insisted we let the crucian go — I felt so sorry for it. After that first fishing trip, I became an avid angler for life.
Later, Uncle Kolya and I went fishing many more times. Among my relatives, he was the only one who fished. Uncle Kolya also got along exceptionally well with children. Kids loved him, and he loved them. That played a big role in drawing me, as a child, into fishing. Every time I visited the village, I would beg him (sometimes tearfully) to take me fishing. Even though he worked hard from dawn to dusk and was often exhausted, he rarely refused me. We dug up worms, mixed dough for bait, and fished in nearby ponds during the morning and evening bites. Sometimes, we rode bicycles to more distant ponds and streams. We caught crucian carp, rudd, perch, and tench. Then, back home, I would fall asleep and dream of the float bobbing with a bite.
I asked him countless questions about fishing and the various types of fish, and he was always happy to share stories about his catches, what he’d seen, and what he knew. I loved listening to his tales about trophy fish he’d caught, about how he worked and fished in Dniprodzerzhynsk, and about watching divers hunt giant catfish and bighead carp in the sluices. He also told me where different fish species could be found and how to catch them. He taught me how to prepare fishing tackle, tie proper knots, select the right goose feather for a float, choose the best spot, depth, and bait for fishing, and much more.
Later, the household and the apiary in the village grew larger, and Uncle Kolya became busier with work, leaving no time for fishing. I, too, visited the village less frequently. Uncle Kolya often said, “Once I get a moped, I’ll go fishing at the river every day.” He did buy a moped, but he could never find the time to fish.
A couple of years ago, Uncle Kolya fell ill and received a grim diagnosis: cancer. He fought the disease bravely. I visited him as often as I could. It seemed like the worst was behind us, and he was on the mend. I promised to take him on a proper fishing trip as soon as he got a bit better. I refused to believe the doctors and sincerely believed we would fish together again. We even started picking a fishing spot for our trip.
But in late July this year, his condition suddenly worsened, and he passed away. It was a shock for me and completely threw me off balance. We all understand that life is finite and everyone eventually passes, but knowing this didn’t make it any easier for me. Sadly, he didn’t live to old age or have much time to enjoy life.