|
Last weekend I
traveled to one of my favorite lakes for a day of bass fishing. When I
arrived, I stopped by the local bait shop to catch up on the latest fishing
stories. Of course, I had to check out all the selections of lures, rods and
reels. A nice bait caster combo was displayed on the end of the rod display.
I asked, "how much?" The owner said, $110.00 and I'll bag up a spool of line
for free." I'll take it," I said. As I drove away, with my little johnboat
in tow, my imagination running wild; I could vision scores of bass with
their heads above the water, waving white flags in surrender.
As I approached the
lake, I could see that the parking lot was empty. "Got it all to myself" I
thought. I quickly rigged my new combo with a lipless crankbait, launched my
boat and pointed it toward a grass bed next to the dam. I made a cast to an
isolated patch of grass and swiftly cranked the reel.
Suddenly there was a
hard jerk that almost separated my arm from my shoulder. "Gotcha' now, come
to daddy," I said as I cranked the reel. The reel sang sweet music as line
disappeared from the spool. "Hot dog' I've got a big'un." Suddenly, the line
went slack and the song the reel sang, sang no more. "Lost 'em", I said, as
I cursed with a whisper. I cranked the reel to retrieve the lure to cast
again. Another jerk! And line disappeared from the spool as the reel played
my song again. "Oh boy," the battle has begun, come on to daddy and make me
proud," I said, as I cranked hard on the reel. I cranked with no effect as
line continued to disappear.
Again, as suddenly as
the battle began, the fish just seemed to give up the fight and surrender. I
gave the rod a quick hard jerk bending my rod almost to the breaking point.
Whatever that is on the other end wouldn't budge an inch. I tugged, pulled
and cursed. My efforts seemed useless. I had hooked this fish and battled it
for fifteen minutes now and was no closer to landing it than I was when I
first launched the boat.
As I sat there tugging
and battling this fish, I noticed a young man sitting on the hood of his
truck watching me sweat. "Got a big'un there?" He asked. "I certainly have a
big something,” I said, as I gave the rod another tug. The young man walked
over to the water's edge and looked down. "It's deep here, no tellin' what
you got," he said. "I'm a diver and I have all my gear in the truck; want me
to go down there and see what you got?" I said, "I'll give you ten bucks if
you can tell me what’s on that hook." The young man nodded his head, geared
up, stepped into the water and disappeared.
Another five minutes
had passed when he surfaced. "You got a big 'ol bass, looks to be about 20
pounds, could be a state record." But you ain’t gonna land 'em though." I've
had that fish hooked for twenty minutes now and wasn't giving up the fight.
I asked, "What makes
you think that I won't land him?" "There's a car down there and he's done
swum in the winder." I said, "If he can swim in, he can swim out." The young
man smiled and said, "You can sit there all day and you ain’t gonna land 'em."
Thirty minutes had passed now and I was certain that the fish would soon
give up and surrender, "Tell me why you think I won't land this fish, I'm
certainly not giving up. “You ain’t gonna’ jest ain’t,” he said.” I gave the
rod another tug and asked, why do you think I won’t land him?” The young man
chuckled and said, “You see, he done raised the winders.” |
