Do fish listen to iTunes?

Yesterday Randy and I took an early morning walk at the fish hatchery. The fish aren't running yet, but lots of people were out walking, running, and enjoying the bike trail.

We detoured onto the dirt paths to walk closer to the river, and stopped to sit and watch the fishermen throw out their lines while the sun came up.

"There is something so calming about water," Randy said, barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the men at work.

I nodded in agreement. Just as one of the fisherman's cell phones went off.

The man answered it. Chatted for a while. Then pocketed the phone.

"My grandpa would have grabbed that phone right out of his hand and thrown it into the water," I said. Thinking of the man who regularly took my brothers and I fishing.

It wasn't long before another fisherman answered his phone. Rod and reel in one hand, iPhone in the other. And when he hung up he set his iTunes to play. Loud enough that we could make out the words from our seats up the bank.

I found this incredibly disenchanting. I haven't been fishing but once since my grandpa died in 1996. But I assumed this past-time still held on to the sanctity of silence. The appeal of being removed from technology and transported to a simpler time. Where you became one with nature.

Is there no longer anywhere that this generation is allowed, expected, to be quiet and leave the noise behind?