Favorite fishing holes are well-kept secrets. Every decent fisherman has one, but no one likes to share exactly where theirs is.

“We had a big day on the water yesterday. We caught a stringer full of perch.”

“So, where were you guys fishing?”

“Oh, you know, a few miles after the road turns left there’s a little spot we found.”

“Where?”

“Over there, just a few miles south of here.”

That will be as specific as it gets. And for good reason. Fishermen live in fear that someone will discover their honey hole, and fish it dry. I’m no different.

As a teenager, I fished a pond in front of a cabin tucked well off a country road. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to reel in 5-pound bass. The biggest largemouth I’ve hooked lived in those shallow waters. To this day, that bass is still “the one that got away.” I’m sure it was no more than 6 or 7 pounds, but when I tell the story now, it’s at least 10.

I started fishing the pond with a friend, and we guarded the location of that hole like it was buried treasure. Sure, we told plenty of stories about how good the fishing was, but never divulged where the pond was.

I suppose I picked up the habit from my father, who once dreamed of being a professional bass fisherman. The realities of feeding my sister and I crushed that dream, but he was on the water every chance he got. It wasn’t unusual for him to bring home a cooler full of bass before heading to work in the morning.

He lived to fish when I was young. His favorite TV shows were “Bill Dance Outdoors” and “Hank Parker’s Outdoor Magazine.” The shows featured two guys fishing — that was it. We gathered around the TV as a family and watched the way most families watched “Cheers” together. I can still sing the theme song to both shows.

Like most serious fishermen, he always had a favorite spot. I’ve crawled through briar thickets and up and down creek banks getting to a hidden fishing hole with him. There was always a story of how he’d once caught a whopper there, and no one had fished the spot in years.  There was a preacher’s place in his hometown where his father had taken him. I don’t remember catching a fish there, but I did break one of dad’s rods — and never told him.  There was a lake so secluded I don’t think I could get there now with a map.  We also had a spot just up the road from my grandparents’ farm. Though the pond itself was no secret, where the fish were certainly was.

The same strategy is employed by those who catch a day’s limit at a public lake. You’ll share the filets, but never the location of the stump you were fishing around. Call it selfishness if you will, but I’m sure most hunters are the same way about their favorite spots — especially on public land.

Thankfully, my son doesn’t have my penchant for keeping fishing holes a secret. At least not yet. Not long after we moved to Lincoln County, he discovered the ponds on our property were full of bass. So far, they’ve been mostly 1-pounders. But for an 8-year-old, they might as well be marlin. He has fished every evening we let him, typically with his younger siblings in tow.

While I wouldn’t classify either pond as a honey hole, my son has. And he’s eager to share them. His birthday is at the end of the month, and he has already planned a fishing party. The entire day’s schedule consists of fishing at those two ponds. He’s even planned out exactly where they’ll stand on the bank while fishing.

He’s never considered the possibility that the ponds could be over-fished. He only wants his friends and cousins to experience what he’s found — the unique joy of hooking a fish and reeling it in. That selflessness will serve him well one day — if only he doesn’t let it get away.

Luke Horton is the publisher of The Daily Leader.