GUSTS OF WIND scalloped Lady Bird Lake in sheets and the temperature held steady at 45. Over on the south bank, silhouetted bald cypress presented gulps of cormorants in sentinel perch.
A kid and his dad walked up with a three-foot fishing pole. The kid stared so hard at his orange and white cork that he staggered. The line was already tangled, but I could see his future: sticky worm-fingers, fish-slime smeared jeans, giggles and hoots, and fishy high fives. This was his first trip. And he would probably never be the same afterward. Bream fishing is the gateway drug to a lifelong angling addiction.