Growing up in central Minnesota has some clear benefits. One being that in certain areas the law doesn’t really exist or appear often.
I was on a camping/party excursion with some friends and acquaintances (no names will be mentioned to protect the innocent). The campground was on the Mississippi River. Some people had brought fishing equipment and I asked to use it for abit. Permission was granted and I grab a rod and some beers to head down the bank of the river to wet my line and my whistle. Reaching what I thought to be a good location, I set up shop. The afternoon/early evening was nice and I was enjoying myself even with no bites on the line. Now the bait/lure I was using probably had no business being on the line for where I was, but I didn’t care, I was just hanging out.
Time went bye and I heard some rustling behind me, as though someone was coming. I thought it was someone I was camping with, no big deal, hopefully bringing me some more beers. Well I was wrong, I looked over my shoulder as they approached and saw Mr. DNR Conservation Officer! We talked for abit about the fishing, weather, blah blah blah. He asked me for my fishing license. Well, I was in a pickle since I didn’t have one. We talked for awhile longer, with no way of me getting out of this one.
Results of this was a warning, confiscation of the rod (which wasn’t even mine) and humiliation going back to camp. I paid the guy who’s rod it was for my mistake. I’ve always, always bought a fishing/hunting license for whatever I’m up to.
Posted by Guest Poster on June 3, 2009
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