Fish Story ...conclusion

Thought for the Day

From yesterday's post....

I watched as it moved past the boat and on toward the back of the cove. When it went out of sight I still was staring at where it had been. As I sat there staring at the water something gradually became apparent to me. There was a path, for lack of a better term, where the fish had been. It was like a little path. Hmmmm. I looked at the other end of the boat. I stared at the water until I began to see little differences, yes, there it was, a little path was there too.

"Well, I'll be dammed."

I sat there staring at the path until I caught some movement in the water. Sure enough, there it was again. He was so damn casual I felt like asking him about the weather.

I think you've already figured out the hour I told "you know who" about isn't going to be accurate. I always seem to underestimate how long it will take to fish, and tell people things. Stop by tomorrow if you like and I'll try to finish this fish tale, true fish tale.
Conclusion:
I continued watching until he moved out of sight again. Slowly, I stood up to get a better view. I thought since the water was so clear I might be able to see where he was going. I steadied myself and scanned the area where I guessed he would be.

The cove was quite weedy which is why the fish liked it so much. A foot below the surface you could see a loose, fine weed a bit like the cellophane grass in an Easter basket. After my eyes adjusted to the distance I could see an oval track just as clearly as if I were at the Indy 500. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration but there was an oval path where the fish had been swimming. I could no longer see the fish but it was obvious he had been circling. I have fished for a long time. I have seen a lot of strange things. But this was something else again.

I watched the fish make a couple of circuits and then I had an idea. The kaboozi's were gone. I had to try something else. I decided I would try a plastic worm on a hook with a bobber. That way I could adjust the depth of the worm and watch to see how the fish reacted to the bait. I would also be able to wiggle the worm when I saw the fish approaching it. OK, that should work. So I rigged the line, tossed it in the path of the fish and waited.

It seemed to take longer for the fish to make the circuit with the bait in the water. After what seemed a very long time I decided he had been spooked. I was too close to the path. The action of putting the bobber and bait there was too disruptive. I was about to give up when he swam into view. He looked more wary than before. (They can too. A fish can look wary. They have to pay attention to their surroundings. Nature is a very stern teacher.)

I wiggled the worm a bit. He slowed and approached it but passed by without taking the bait. Crap! Maybe it will look better next time. I waited. I waited some more. Having a fish that big, that close doing things that predictable made catching him that much more important. Then I thought, maybe I could just net him. Nawww, that's no way to fish. So I waited.

I don't know how many passes that fish made with nary a nibble but I almost left many times. Finally when I was at my wits end he took the bait. Bam! He broke the line. It's true. I swear, he broke the line. Well, I thought, that's it. He'll never take that bait again. So I started to pull up the anchor and then, I relaxed my grip on the line and thought I'd give it one more shot. So this time I rigged the big rod and used a steel leader. I hooked the bobber into the swivel on the end of the leader, put it back in the water and waited.

To my great surprise he took the bait on the first pass. I set the hook hard. The response was explosive. He dove fast and deep making the line whine at a high pitch and the rod bend in half. He was heavy and full of fight. No fish I had ever caught there had been anywhere near that strong. I held the rod high and pulled against him trying to keep him from getting in the weeds on the bottom. He pulled back with a vengeance and then, the line snapped. Damn! I was devastated. That's it, I thought and began packing up my gear.

I retrieved all of my paraphernalia and put it in the tackle box. I cleaned the weeds from the net, wound the line back on the reels and reached for the anchor. I took one last, long look. About twenty five feet from the boat a red and white, round bobber floated along as if powered by an inboard motor.  The fish was still hooked. It may have been the first fish locator of its kind. I watched and laughed as the monster fish continued to make its way around the oval track with the bobber marking his progress.

And then, I realized the fish was mine. I could lie in wait and when the fish came by the boat I would reach out, grab the bobber and land the fish. I had only to move into position and lie still enough to keep the boat from rocking. There was nothing left to do but wait.

It was eerie watching a bobber moving along the water surface. The circuit was about a hundred feet in circumference. The pace was painfully slow. My heart was beating fast and I was focused on the bobber like a lioness on a springbok. As the bobber rounded the lower end of the oval the anticipation was gigantic. My muscles tensed in readiness. My left hand gripped the gunwale, my right hand was forming into a talon. I got it so quickly and pulled it into the boat so fast it seemed weightless. It was an evil looking fish, unlike anything I had ever encountered. But he was mine.

Normally I released fish after catching them. This one was going back. I put him in the live box and  hoisted anchor. It was time to head back. I wanted to ask a neighbor what this strange fellow was.

The fish turned out to be a dogfish or bowfin, amia calva. It's an unpopular predator that is known to lake fisherman but since the bulk of my fishing was in streams I had never seen one. The greeting I got from my wife was not pretty but quite understandable. I had been gone three and a half hours. It seemed like minutes to me. That's the way fishing is. It's hard to explain if you don't do it.

After that incident I didn't have much credibility estimating length of time when it involved fishing activities. It isn't that I did before but it got worse. I can still see the look on her face when I told her I released the fish. She wasn't exactly angry, it was more like she was really, really confused. She had a fundamental inability to understand that in a contest of wills destruction of the competitor is not necessary for a victory. Actually it's quite possible for a high stakes contest to end with both parties earning a satisfactory result. That's why I have always loved fly fishing for trout. We both win.

It is a true story. I promise... on my fishing gear.

©Herb Ratliff, August 10, 2012, All Rights Reserved