BIRDSEYE, Ind. — My parents came to Indianapolis for a visit last month, just about the time I was assigned to write a story on bass fishing.

“You’re kidding,” said my father, who used to take an annual fishing trip to Minnesota and actually knows what he’s doing with a rod and reel.

His son? Not so much of an aficionado. I had not gone fishing in about 28 years.

“I’ll bet you can’t even cast your line,” he told me.

“Of course I can,” I replied, thinking how difficult could it be.

Fortunately, Star photographer Danese Kenon and I were lined up with an expert. Lora Simison, Beech Grove, is a member of the Women’s Bassmaster Tour.

Simison finished sixth in her first event this year on Lake Amistad in Del Rio, Texas. We made arrangements to join her and Rob Worthy, the former head of the Bassmaster Indiana chapter, on Lake Patoka in southern Indiana on a recent Saturday morning.

“Don’t worry,” Simison told me. “We’re going to have a great time.”

I trusted her. But having that great time meant waking up at 3 a.m. for the two-hour drive south to Patoka Lake in southern Indiana near French Lick.

I had to get up at 4:30 a.m. to cover the Kentucky Derby, but this was ridiculous. Couldn’t we ask the fish to make it a little more convenient time, like noon?

No. I learned that summer isn’t a great time for bass fishing anyway because of the heat. The best bet is to get out early before things get too warm.

So we headed off to the lake and were on the water just after 7. Simison and Worthy quickly taught me there was more to this than just throwing a line over the side of the boat.

Don’t even think about using a worm or other live bait. Simison tells me they’re prohibited in Bassmaster because they can damage a fish’s gills.

Artificial lures are used instead. Simison sets me up with a topper — one designed to stay near the surface. She and Worthy show me how to get it to dance across the surface, in hopes of luring a fish that can “hear better than a dog and smell better than a dog,” Simison said.

It’s one of the reasons bass fishing has become so popular. It’s a species that constantly attacks other fish in the water but is often smart enough to stay away from any traps.

“Bass is a predator fish.” Worthy said. “They like to hide underneath and behind things. And they can be vicious.”

Other than one time when I got the hook attached to the back of my shirt, my casting skills were pretty good.

“Anyone who says they haven’t done anything like that, they’re fibbing,” Simison says of the mishap.

Fishing boats have advanced quite a bit over the past three decades, too. I remembered how hard it was to keep your balance in an old bass boat. Someone would move to the back and you thought you were headed overboard.

No more. Worthy’s boat — a Ranger — comfortably seats four. There’s plenty of room to stand.

There’s a tank to house the fish that are caught, re-circulating fresh water from the lake to keep them alive. Fish must be alive when they are weighed at the end of a competition.

Most boats now have power steering, but we spend most of the time cruising the lake with a troller motor that’s nearly silent. There’s even a GPS navigator to help patrol the lake. A sonar tells us the depth of the water.

Bass usually are in shallow water, often with plenty of vegetation. But not always.

“It’s like hunting in that you might be up in a tree trying to be quiet,” Simison said. “But this is a little more difficult because we really don’t have eyes in the water. We’ve got to make them bite.”

The fish aren’t biting much, which isn’t a surprise. Worthy has warned me early in the day the hot weather doesn’t lead to great fishing. Better to do it in the spring with cooler temperatures.

Worthy and Simison catch one fish apiece during four hours on the water, so I don’t feel too bad when I get nary a bite. They return their fish to the water — with Simison giving hers a kiss before sending it back.

Yet, I’m feeling relaxed. The serenity of one of the state’s most beautiful lakes has provided a much-needed relief to the constant noise of city life. Even with nothing biting, I understand why people enjoy this.

As we head back to the dock, I think back to when a previous editor at another newspaper informed me I was the paper’s horse racing writer. I pouted and initially felt like an idiot when I went to the track. But in the end, I grew to enjoy it.

Maybe it’s similar to the passion Simison and Worthy have for what they do.

But I think I like this fishing thing, too.