My father and grandfather would get up in the early morning hours before the sun rose to fish for hornpout. Sometimes, they would let me or one of my siblings go along. I didn't do much fishing, but enjoyed the adventure of walking up so early and being out on the water while it was dark.
Even when I didn't go fishing, I remember the wonderful breakfast that the hornpout made. My father, who disliked the taste and smell of cooked fish would slip out to the barn to start chores. My mother would join us for breakfast, but not partake of the fish, although she ate many other kinds of fish. The rest of us would enjoy the feast My grandmother always cleaned and cooked them, dredging them in flour and spices before frying. Delicious.