The first sign appeared on a roadside outside Morden, Manitoba, about a year and a half ago. It was not subtle.
“Bubba sucks at fishing,” it declared, in bold block letters.
Steve Peters had never been called Bubba in his life, but the problem with living in a small town is that you often know too much about other people, and they know far too much about you. His friends sent him the photo almost immediately. Peters, mystified, posted it to Facebook with the disclaimer that there are probably several Bubbas in the area.
A couple of weeks later, another sign appeared. This one helpfully narrowed the field of suspects.
“There’s those who can fish,” it read, “and then there’s Steve Peters.”
By May of this year, Peters had moved to Winkler. The prank followed. The latest sign read:
“Steve’s therapist told him to embrace his mistakes, so he went fishing. Bubba sucks at fishing.”
In the face of what could have been relentless, if not good natured public humiliation, Peters decided to do something ludicrously generous: for every like and share the post got, he would donate a dollar toward buying fishing gear for a Manitoba kid in need.
The internet, sensing it was being given permission to mock Peters and help children, responded as the internet does: gleefully, and in droves. Two of Peters’ friends matched the donations. By the end, Peters had outfitted eight kids with fishing rods, tackle boxes, lures, pliers, and reels.
“Some kids don’t have the gear,” Peters says. “And it’s not cheap. Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he’ll be broke the rest of his life.”
Now, Peters is leaning in. At the Winkler Harvest Festival Parade, his “float” will be a boat pulled through town, filled with candy, miniature fishing rods, sandals shaped like fish (“fish flops”), and green aquarium nets filled with sweets. “It’s gonna be fun,” he says.
He insists this is all in good fun. The signs, the ribbing, the dubious fishing record. Although, when pressed, Peters concedes that once, years ago at Lake Minnewasta, he managed to hook a bag of rocks. There is photographic evidence.
But beneath the jokes runs a deeper current. Years ago, Peters battled cancer, and the community raised money to cover his bills and wages while he recovered. “I’ve wondered for a long time how I could give back,” he says. “This was my way of saying thank you.”
As for the identity of the prankster, Peters is still in the dark. “Either they’ve got a connection to a sign company, or they’ve just got cash to burn on a good joke,” he says. “Maybe both.”
If another sign appears, he won’t be mad. In fact, he’s sort of counting on it.
“I’d even be okay if one just said ‘Steve’s pretty okay at fishing.’ A kind word goes a long way,” Peters says. Then he pauses.
“But if it’s another one making fun of me? I’ll just use it to help more kids. That’s more ammo.”
For fishing gear donations or to buy a T-shirt, contact Steve Peters at 204‑384‑1213.
