This article appeared in a 1949 information bulletin published by the Georgia Game & Fish Commission.
“Fishing is not a sport, it’s a disease. When the germ gets in a man’s blood it’s like a tropical fever. He’ll go along for months with no signs that it is there – then all the sudden, and for no reason at all, other than the sunshine is bright, the soft spring breezes whisper through the willows, the popular buds are bursting, birds signing in the tree tops, and rippling waters sing a siren song as they slide across the rocks, he’ll throw everything down and – go fishing.
“It will affect a man’s morals too. Like the man who weighed the new baby at his house on his fishing scales, and it weighted 32 pounds.
“It destroys all respect for the rights and comforts of others. He’ll get up before day break, blunder around the house knocking over furniture, grab up the family’s best coffee pot, take all the bacon they were planning to have for breakfast, and before he gets away, wake up every member of the household. He’ll come back way after dark grumpy and tired, and when asked if the fish were biting, he’ll growl, ‘If they were, they were biting each other- they wouldn’t touch a thing I threw at ‘em’.
“Nevertheless, no other pastime exemplifies the adage, ‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast’ like fishing. They will surely bite tomorrow if it is not a day too soon or too late.”