Yeah, I know it’s pathetic to live in Alabama with our mild winters, and yet wait until late March before getting out for some fishing. What can I say? Someone has to earn a living around here.
Last Friday I met my brother Jon for what turned out to be a cold, windy, damp [...]
Even if you are a pro fly fisherman like myself (obvious humor and I hope you did note that), always be prepared, even if you are only a lunchtime angler. An old pair of shoes and possibly clothing will certainly make your return trip to work a little more desirable, and possibly save you from being beat unconscious by the lady who mopped your room just that morning. Now, if you work in construction, landscaping, or a similar atmosphere, you are probably safe from any bodily harm. However, an office job where you interact with customers everyday adds more complexity to your preparedness. Having a tendency to live life on the edge, I disregarded this idea just a few days ago when I went fishing after it had rained nonstop the night before.
I admit it was disgustingly muddy, nobody else was down there, and I was fishing water that looks like chocolate pudding. But, if there is one thing my previous fishing experiences have taught me, rising muddy creek water can increase your chance of landing a nice fish, especially catfish. Ever notice how insects and worms seem to ooze out of the soil during a good hard rain. Picture the banks of a creek as a gigantic slip and slide, pouring uncountable numbers of these creatures into the water. Fish aren’t stupid, and they tend to know that a good rain means a smorgasbord of food.
After targeting several key spots with my homemade bream popper, I went with my second most successful warm water fly, the olive wooly bugger. This particular bugger had a medium size bead head. Just the right weight for fishing this type of water. The first few casts weren’t very successful, so I tried a deeper pool about 30 yards downstream. Sometimes you have to find the depth at which these fish are feeding, which can be quite time consuming…trust me! Upon the third cast into this pool, I let the bugger sink all the way to the bottom. A few gently tugs and the line wouldn’t budge. This particular creek is full of submerged trees, bushes, and probably things you wouldn’t even want to know, so I figured my bugger got hung up. Doing what any optimistic angler would do, I set the hook. Holy @#%!!! My line began racing off my reel as I ran up and down the bank, weaving my rod in between the many saplings along the bank. Having no clue what was on the end, my only option was to fight until it submitted, or until the line broke. Several times I got it to the surface, catching a brief glimpse of a fish, and it immediately countered by removing 15 more feet of line. Continue reading The Lunchtime Angler
Back in February I had posted an article about how Alabama’s catfish were under much distress from our current laws and practices. To make a long story short, commercial fishing and out of state private pond owners are destroying our large catfish population. I won’t fall back into the debate for lack of time, [...]
Ok, I don’t usually get into much debate over the current environmental issues, which are too many to count at the moment, but sometimes enough is enough! This isn’t to say that I am never concerned about preserving what little wilderness and wildlife we have left, but I normally leave the dirty political work [...]
I watched an episode of the Simpsons the other night that reminded me of something I had planned on writing about. In the episode, Homer and Marge go on a marriage retreat; however Homer sees it as more of an opportunity to go fishing than to work on his marriage. While there’s an entire novel’s worth of material right there, and I’m sorely tempted to espouse several humorous anecdotal references, I will refrain and stay on target.
While Homer is out and about, he stops in a local store for bait. There, he hears tale of a monster catfish named General Sherman – so large and so mean it killed the last guy that tried to catch him. According to the clerk, “They say he’s five hundred pounds of bottom-dwelling fury, don’t you know. No one knows how old he is, but if you ask me (and most people do), he’s hundred years if he’s a day.” Homer, of course, declares he intends to catch General Sherman and the rest is, well, ‘Simpson-y.’
While the premise is funny, I’d bet most of you – like me – have a tale of a monster fish. The one GIANT fish in the lake, pond or river that no one can catch. One so wily, strong and elusive that men share tales over a free cup of coffee at the bait store – “Got a hook in him once, but danged if I know where. He drug me out to the middle of the lake and tore off all my line.” Continue reading The General – Monster Catfish of the Flint