FYI.

This story is over 5 years old.

Stuff

The Strange Experience and Questionable Ethics of Fishing in a Swimming Pool

There's a reason they don't say "It's as easy as shooting fish in a swimming pool."

A version of this article originally appeared on VICE Canada.

Fishing from a community center's indoor swimming pool is weird. Last week, Scadding Court Community Centre in Toronto offered the chance to catch your own rainbow trout—no cottage, camp, or nature required. For three dollars, urban anglers could grab a rod and dip worms into the deep end in the hope that a fish would be dumb enough to fall for the bait. As they were reeled in, the fish flopped against the pastel deck tiles, leaving smears of blood that looked like question marks, as if the dying fish were asking, "Why the fuck are you fishing in a swimming pool?"

Advertisement

The answer, according to the community center's website, is to provide Torontonians with an "excellent chance to not only learn how to fish, but also learn about ecology, the environment, nutrition and where food comes from." And while that's all well and good, some believe fishing out of a pool is unethical. But is it? What's the difference between yanking a fish out of a grocery store aquarium or luring them from a location usually populated with peeing kids in water wings? Even if you're fishing in the great outdoors, there's a good chance that the river or lake was stocked by the government. Nothing is real anymore, guys. Those trouts, salmons, and splakes were planted in the water like a conspiracy theory Easter egg hunt for dudes who need to get away from their wives.

Photos by Jess Bloom.

Scadding Court's annual "Gone Fishin'" program was spearheaded by the community center's executive director, Kevin Lee. He was inspired 13 years ago by a similar initiative in College Station, Texas. The Texans stock their pool with 1,000 pounds of trout and let the town have at 'er.

"We drove down, 26 hours straight, and had a meeting. We saw how they did it and drove back to Toronto," he said. "Then we contacted the Ministry of Natural Resources, Guelph University, and different fishing associations. Everyone was so helpful. The people from Guelph showed us how to unbind the hard chlorine in the water and how to use an aerator to keep the trout happy and thriving."

Advertisement

Until they die. This is a sticking point for PETA and other animal rights supporters. "It's not a very family-friendly activity," said PETA representative Melissa Karpel. "Children have to see the poor fish flopping around, gasping for air, having hooks put through their sensitive mouths."

As an alternative, PETA provided plastic fish that kids could collect with a net in the wadding pool. They also sent fishless filets and vegan tartar sauce that sat next to the registration table cash box on your way into the pool. But when I was there, no one was in the wading pool and no one was eating the breaded soy chunks.

Everyone fishing around the pool deck was pretty gung ho for the real deal. The air was thick with anticipation and trimethylaminuria, as the diverse crowd waited patiently for a fish. Surprisingly, it's quite difficult to catch a fish in a pool. In an hour, only a dozen fish were reeled in. Most people left empty-handed.

Douglas and Tim Hodge were the father-son duo who helped untangle rods and provided fishing expertise. They live in the community and support the cause wholeheartedly. "It's good for the kids," Douglas said. "A lot of kids don't get the chance to go to camp or the cottage."

"We've been doing this for 13 years," Tim, a 40-ish-year-old man wearing a shirt reading "I love women's hearts. Their big, bouncy hearts," told VICE. "Every year there are protesters outside of the community center from PETA. They called a group of kindergarteners 'fish killers.' I had to walk away but I was so mad."

Advertisement

PETA responded that they don't agree with the "fish killers" message and would prefer to come from a place of positivity. They do not consider children on field trips to be aquatic life murderers. In so many words, they explained that they're not accountable for the words and actions of a few diehard protesters.

Their objection with Scadding Court's fish pool is one note: it's wrong because fish get hurt. There's no room for nuance. Is it good for kids to see the circle of life played out on a pool deck? No, Karpel says. They don't need to see violence to learn compassion. Because the leftover fish is donated to food banks, could this be a unique way to provide low income families with fresh food? Again, no. There's plenty of other food that people in need can eat.

On the other hand, Lee was comfortable discussing both PETA's involvement and the fishing pool's cultural impact. He believes in providing literature from both sides of the issue for community members to read. In the main atrium of the center, you can find animal rights pamphlets alongside pro-fishing bristol boards. "Fishing brings people together. Whether you're from Vietnam, the Philippines, or Sri Lanka—people fish," said Lee. "Families can share good times together and I'm quite sure that it will be in the memories of many children for a long time."

In a back room, outside of the pool area, a teenager in latex gloves was waiting to kill and clean your fish for an extra dollar. For anyone who's been enjoying fish tacos without giving the gutting process a second thought, the crunch of a fish throat being ripped out might be your lasting memory. A hundred percent more blood, a hundred percent less guacamole. Until next year, Scadding Court fishing pool.

Follow Jess Bloom on Twitter.