The alarm clock kicked into action the other day and my unconscious self’s first instinct was to ignore the signal.

Ugh. Not yet. No way. Can’t do it. Leave me be.

But then the truth of the day dawned on me: I was going fishing. Suddenly the annoyance on the nightstand was my call to action.

Alarm clocks and fishing trips have been two of my essentials for a long time. Pausing now to think about the relationship of the clock and angling actually reveals the irony that on most of my fishing trips, the best action often has almost nothing to do with getting on the water just as the sun is rising.

There are, nevertheless, wonderful reasons to get up before the sun on days when fishing is the activity of choice. Wife Barb groans at the notion of awaking to darkness and hauling down the highway to a still-dewy destination, and disregards my claims that there is a lot to love about the dawn of daylight.

So, like a good husband, I do it anyway. I rolled out of bed this morning before the roosters crowed and launched the Bass Cat as the sun crested the treeline.

That’s reason one for rising early. Sunrises over my fishing lakes – wherever they are – always make the most beautiful pictures. From the inky darkness indescribable pastels paint the sky and, when the clouds are just right, make way for beams that seem to point down to likely hotspots.

At several of my regular stops, bald eagles perch like sentinels in the treetops providing the best vantage points for their incomparable vision to catch glimpses of fish swimming shallow enough to snare with their talons.

Ospreys get up early, too, and ride the thermal updrafts generated by the morning sun. I watch in awe as they glide, stall, flutter and dive for breakfast. I hear them, too, especially as they screech a warning if my boat gets too close to their nest atop tall poles.

Deer often tiptoe along the waterline at my favorite lakes. It’s amazing to watch them dip and sip. I wonder why they don’t get a belly ache from drinking untreated water, though I know their gut can handle a lot of harshness. Sometimes, including my most recent trip, twin fawns prance along the bank, but always under mom’s watch.

Foxes occasionally show up near my morning stops. I suppose they stop for one more check for a rodent or duckling before retreating to the brush to sleep the day away.

Before launching the boat, I like to scan the boat ramp and courtesy docks. Several times I’ve seen minks slinking around the waterline. I believe some of them are conditioned to hunt there for the dead minnows dumped overboard by departing anglers.

Otters also make appearances in the morning stillness, as do the occasional beaver and more common muskrats.

The wildlife seems more carefree at the daily dawn, but so do to the humans I encounter. It’s always a good reminder that we all share a love of the lake when I see friendly neighbors enjoying their coffee on their lake houses’ back porches.

For these reasons and more, I set the alarm clock. I may catch more fish later in the day, but I get out there early because the success of fishing trips depends only partially on the size of the catch.

Jack Wollitz, author of The Common Angler, has written this column weekly since 1988. Email Jack at jackbbaass@gmail.com.