The Magic Of The Old Timer

Magic. That's what I call it. The magical sight of an old timer on the pier "reeling" them in one after another. As I sit beside one of these fishing machines, I am almost always dumbfounded. My pole lays still on the pier as his has never ending action. I try to look at this phenomena scientifically. We are fishing the same body of water. My line is merely feet away from theirs in the water. We are using the same bait(Lake Erie Emerald Shiners). We both have two rods in use. Same time of day fishing, same desire to catch fish, same eyes affixed to the tip of the rod. Of course mine are 20/20, who knows what the Old Timers vision could be. So why does my pole not move, and his bounce uncontrollably around from frantic fish bites? I can not scientifically prove any of this. The perch move up and down the channel and have equal opportunity to bite on any hook. Mine always cursed, theirs always needs re baited. My gear, fresh from Dick's Sporting Goods topping $100.00 a set up, and the old timer hasn't invested a cent in over a decade. Why?Why? I ask myself bouncing my head on the concrete. Magic. There is no other simple answer. There is a certain magic to their way. No matter the wind direction, the current, the barometer, strikes are always abundant around them. Its an earned reward to them, The Last Fishermen, whom have braved those piers forever and ever. A pleasant reward for their goodwill and hard earned labor. Someone is shining down on them as they continue to practice the sport they love to do. Though I am jealous, especially when I get skunked and they fill a bucket right next to me. But I must view it as a lesson learned. That someday, as I age with time, that the powers that be will send upon me, some of that special magic.