Where Kindness Still Lives: A Peek Inside the Fishing Community

There’s something I’ve noticed over the past few years — first in the sportfishing world, and now in the freshwater world too. Something that surprised me, humbled me, and honestly still catches me off guard.

The fishing community is, in so many ways, the kind of community we all wish the world looked like.

I’m not just talking about friendliness or casual conversation at a boat show. I’m talking about people who show up for each other. People who see a need and quietly fill it. People who give their time, their wisdom, their tools, their encouragement — not because they want anything in return, but because that’s simply who they are.

They offer help and advice, not withhold it.
They pass down hard-earned knowledge with open hands.
They genuinely want to see others succeed.

Are there exceptions? Of course. Every community has them.
But the overwhelming spirit I’ve witnessed is one of generosity, humility, and shared passion. There’s something almost awe-inspiring about it. In fact, sometimes I wonder if it’s a glimpse of what the early church might have looked like: helpful, open-handed, kind, welcoming.

I’ve met very few people in this realm driven by ego or competition for the sake of tearing others down. However, the overwhelming majority I’ve encountered are filled with family — chosen or inherited. They’re filled with community. With people who look you in the eye, offer encouragement, and mean it. It’s the opposite of so much of what we call the “real world.” Stepping into these spaces feels like stepping into what community should be: people looking out for one another.

And I’ll be honest: I really don’t fish anymore.
Twelve-year-old me — the girl who devoured her dad’s Field & Stream magazines, who proudly kept a photo of the first (and only) Pike she caught in Lake Ontario taped inside her locker — would be horrified. The adult me doesn’t have a taste for fish and drifted away from the sport. But after spending time with this community, I sometimes wish I could find that spark again, just to share in the wonder and excitement the people I’ve met still hold.

Just last week in Richmond, I met a couple who were excited to begin fishing again simply because their childhood memories were such fond ones. Moments like that remind me why I love this world. My love for nature and my desire to help with conservation may very well have their roots in those childhood memories. And my respect for the people who cherish these waters? It has only grown.

I love this community — people who live with generosity, curiosity, grit, humor, and the kind of kindness that feels rare these days.

So if you’re looking for a new passion…
If you need space for self-reflection…
If you want to learn a skill, reconnect with nature, or tap into a community that feels real and grounded…
Maybe try stepping into the fishing world. You might find more than a hobby — you might find a family.

And if fishing isn’t your thing, that’s okay too.
I hope you find your own people — the ones who encourage you, challenge you, cheer for you, and share what they know without hesitation. For me, that's church on Sunday and 6 (lets be honest, sometimes 7 days a week when the season is right) of getting my hands in the dirt, growing something beautiful, and swapping plants with friends, family, and neighbors.

Whatever passion you pursue, I hope you find a community like this one.
Because they are out there — and they are extraordinary.
And I hope everyone finds a community they can cherish, and be cherished in.

-Denee