Once upon a time, I just fished. Fishing meant casting and/or pitching thousands of times a day. I would use dozens of lures on all types of cover. On any given day, the goal was to keep rotating lures and tweaking profiles, actions and colors while letting different cover and water colors dictate the tempo.
I might have dry spells for a couple of hours, but it didn’t bother me. Unanswered casts were unanswered casts, nothing more, nothing less. I knew if I kept casting, certain presentations would produce bites, giving me a better idea of how to improve my efficiency.
Eventually, I would establish a rotation and rhythm to my presentations that felt right. The better the rhythm, the more my confidence grew. The more my confidence grew, the more bites I received. The more this synergy between rhythm, confidence and bites synced, the more my analytical brain evaporated.
In time, I could get into a groove where presentations became automatic, rather than being scripted by the brain. I didn’t think about the cast before I made it, and the fish didn’t think about the bait before it ate it. There was no rejection.
Then along came forward-facing sonar.
Now, hold on. I promise you this is not a beam-bashing blog.
Just hear me out.
Let’s completely switch gears for a minute and talk about the human brain and negative bias. Let’s say you post a piece of social media content, and it gets 90 comments that are extremely positive. However, you also get 10 comments that say the content is trash. Of the 100 comments, which ones are going to stand out the most to you?
If we’re being honest here, it’s the 10 that degraded your content. Those 10 comments were a version of rejection that formed a negativity bias in the brain, making you obsessed with the 10 bad comments. Even though you had 90% out-of-the-park comments, it’s the 10% that will haunt you the most.
Okay, let’s go back to fishing now. I’m rolling down the bank, working through a rotation of lures, trying to establish a rhythm. Fishing feels good. Everything feels right. I make 90 presentations without a bite, but I’m good with it.
On my mapping, I see a subtle point running out to the creek channel, sloping from 10 to 15 feet. It looks perfect. I idle out there, fire up my scope, pan around and the screen is loaded. I spot a couple of old brushpiles, and bass are crawling all over them.
Now I’m pumped! I pick up a jerkbait and fire it out there. The fish come up. They follow it. They are fixing to smash it. My anticipation is sizzling. My hair feels like it’s on fire. Then, they just turn away and go back down. I pick up another bait and fire it out there … follow … follow … turn away and gone again. Rinse and repeat.
Rejected, rejected … and … rejected!
Ten casts in a row now, and I have been totally shunned! Ask a girl out on a date, and the answer is “NOPE!” kind of rejection. Like, not even a polite, “Well, we can still be friends.”
I just made 90 casts down the bank without a bite, and I was still happy as a lark – still as confident as ever that I would get a bite. Now, in just 10 casts on scope, I’m totally devastated. I feel like the worst angler ever. My confidence has been shattered.
This all occurred because I watched rejection happen in real time on the screen, and it fired up my negativity bias. Now I’m obsessed with the “negative reviews” of my offering. And here is where things go south for me: It gets personal. The chances of any kind of flow occurring have been extinguished. Now my brain is running the show with a “you suck” narrative with every additional denial.
Other anglers have told me, “Kyle, those fish have been following our lures like that for years.” I get that, but for some reason, I was better off never knowing that fact, especially given the sheer number of times it happens.
I share this experience because it took me a while to figure out what my personal roadblock was with scope. After some serious soul searching, I realized the negativity bias brought on by rejection was a buzzkill for my fishing. Since then, I have worked hard to resolve this issue.
There is little doubt that forward-facing sonar is an incredible tool. It has proven its power time and time again over the last five years. Guys who are top-of-the-line super scopers seem to be immune to rejection that causes a negativity bias. They are unfazed by the 90 “bad comments” and focus only on the 10 good comments. Perhaps that’s because their brain has never considered “dot denials” to be negative. Or, they have simply become calloused to multiple rejections because it’s part of the process.
I have experienced some incredible days with scope. At times, the technology is so super-efficient that it erases negativity bias. The main takeaway from those magical days is that to tap scope’s full potential, as the super scopers do, you have to reach a flow state with scope.
Whether it’s going down the bank or casting to dots, my very best days have one thing in common: no negativity bias. My brain was not directing traffic or solving underwater trigonometry problems. There were dots. One looked right. The cast was spontaneous. I didn’t think about the cast before I made it, and the fish didn’t think about the bait before it ate it.
There was no rejection.
