A Red-Headed Woodpecker with an Attitude
By John Goodman
Last year, as was my custom when fishing tournaments out of Northwest River, I found myself fishing some canals in Tulls Bay Colony. While concentrating intently on my baits as I flipped and pitched various objects along a bulkhead, I heard a loud bang as if something had struck a window on the nearest home 30 feet away. It startled me, and as I looked up, I saw what I best cast describe as a fairly large bird picking itself up from ground and taking flight directly at me. It had a red head and grey-white wings.
In a split second, I thought I was seeing a hawk that I previously had seen in the area, and it was flying at warp speed directly at my head! I struck at it with my flippin' stick and managed to hit it. As the bird flopped into the water next to my boat and things settled down, I saw that it was not a hawk, but rather a large, red-headed woodpecker.
I just was going to let him "handle it" but thought better of that idea and gently lifted him from the water with my dip net. Seeing a dock nearby, I trolled over and attempted to put the bird on it.
Trouble was, he didn't want to let go of the net, so I flipped it over, and as he still held on for dear life, I hit the net several times on the dock. The woodpecker finally dislodged himself, and I continued fishing until a rather large, blonde lady, complete with housecoat and rollers, came to the water's edge and screamed something like, "That's right, you @#$%&! How would you like it if someone put you in a net and slammed you on a dock?"
I ignored her and continued fishing, all the while listening to her verbal assault. A couple of weeks later, while fishing the same area, out come my foul-mouthed mentor, and this time, she apologized for her previous behavior. Seems she found out from a neighbor what had caused the whole event in the first place.
That Sinking Feeling
By Ken Testorff
Back in the '70s, I was into the camping thing to some degree. One summer, my wife, stepson and I decided to spend a few days on the Rappahannock River. The location where we were staying used a series of anchored buoys (similar to what you see in the accompanying photo) several feet from shore for people to tie off their boats. Once you tied off your boat, you simply waded ashore.
Everything was cool the first morning when I eased out of the tent without waking my wife or stepson, donned my hip waders, and made my way out to the boat to go fishing. After fishing all day, I returned to the tie-off area, secured the boat, and donned the waders for getting back to shore. I should point out here that the shoreline now was covered with people, my wife and stepson included, sitting out enjoying the sunshine and watching boats come and go. What I didn't realize was that I was about to focus all those eyes on my sorry fanny.
In one quick motion, I eased my frame off the bow of my boat. There was just one problem: My feet kept going...and going...and going. By the time they finally touched bottom, my waders had filled with water, and I was left with one of the most difficult, humbling experiences of my life as I tried to lumber ashore. Everybody--including my wife and stepson--were pointing (although my wife swears she was trying to warn me about the deeper water) and dying laughing at my predicament.
My only thought, besides trying to "take it all in good stride (Ha!)," was wondering how I could have been so stupid as not to consider the difference in tides when I came back from fishing that day. You can be sure of one thing: There were no repeat performances.
A "Snappy" Fishing-Rod Demo
By Ken Testorff
One of my fellow clubber fishing buddies in the '70s was a guy named Ken B. Like bass fishermen everywhere yet today, we paid a lot of attention to TV commercials about new and improved fishing tackle. I don't remember what manufacturer it was, but this particular one had a long-running TV commercial that showed a guy picking up a rod (minus a reel) by its tip and lifting it completely off the ground without it breaking (similar to what I was only partly demonstrating in the accompanying photo, with my wife behind the lens).
Ken B, me, and four other fellow club fishermen were on an outing together at Kerr Reservoir when Ken B decided he was going to perform the same demonstration as seen in the TV commercial. He evidently felt compelled to hold up for the rod, because it so happened to be his favorite (he just had purchased two new ones), and the rest of us were saying we doubted the accuracy of what the commercial portrayed.
When we saw Ken B removing the reel from his one rod, we all started trying to discourage him, but he wasn't buying anything we said. He was dead set on proving that the commercial was accurate. With the five of us watching him, Ken B proceeded to grab his one new rod by the tip. The butt still hadn't left the ground when we heard the tip snap off in his hand. We figured that would be the end of the demonstration, but Ken B was determined to prove a point.
"It had to be a flaw in the rod," he said, while reaching for his other new stick. In moments, he had stripped the reel from it, too, and was getting ready for another demonstration. This time, we were pleading for him to give it a rest, but he was not to be deterred. I wish I could say he was successsful in his second try, but he wasn't. The rod snapped just like the first one.
The moral to this story is simple, "Don't believe everything you see on TV."
The Day Things Got Ugly in the "Catfish Capital"
By Ken Testorff
I grew up in the small southeastern Kansas town of Oswego. Just 12 miles to the south lay another small town by the name of Chetopa, but this small town had a much bigger distinction. It's known as the "Catfish Capital of Kansas." Every year, anglers from near and far flock to Chetopa to get in on some of the best catfish action you ever could ask for.
Mom and Pop often would take my brother and me for a Sunday drive to Chetopa. We'd park on a hill overlooking the dam (as seen in the accompanying photo) where fishermen stood elbow-to-elbow for hours upon end, casting into the rocks and muddy water of the Neosho River in hopes of catching one of the giant whiskered critters. I remember always being amazed that so many baited lines could be in the water at the same time without becoming one giant snarl. And, you did see times when lines did get wrapped, especially when someone hooked into a big catfish.
One incident in particular, however, always will stand out in my memory. Mom, Pop, my brother, and I were sitting in the car watching what was happening down on the dam when, from the side, appeared a younger guy toting a couple of rods, a tacklebox, and some bait. We watched him bait up both rods, thinking he surely was going to then make his way out onto the dam like everyone else and wedge into one of the small holes still available. But no, that is not what this guy did. He simply reared back from the shoreline where he was standing and fired a long, arching cast--straight out across all the other fishermen's lines.
I remember the four of us laughing so hard we cried while watching this guy quickly reach up, snip his line, and haul butt for safety, with all the dam (and, no, I didn't mean to say "damn") fishermen in hot pursuit. The guy made it to his car but didn't have time to load his gear. He simply tossed it all on the ground, started his car, and threw parking-lot gravel everywhere as he sped away from the scene.
Asleep at the Helm
By Ken Testorff
We all know what happens when people fall asleep behind the wheel of a car. It can be devastating, to say the least. But what happens when a bass angler falls asleep at the helm of his boat?
In the '70s, when I was club fishing, I came to know a fella named Jack G. He had a Fisher Marine aluminum boat (much older than the one in the accompanying photo) with stick steering. Many of our club tournaments found me paired with him. I always enjoyed fishing with Jack--in fact, he became one of my best friends. However, I also knew I had to keep an eye on him whenever we were underway in his boat, with him at the helm.
That fact became abundantly clear during a club tournament on Lake Anna. Anyone who has fished that body of water knows there are several bridges crossing it. As we neared the trestles on one bridge this particular tournament day, I saw Jack taking a course that would put us in jeopardy if he didn't soon adjust the stick. I hollered at him but got no response. It was then I noticed his chin appeared to be resting on his chest--a dead giveaway was the tilt of that old straw hat he always wore fishing on summer days.
I got out of my seat, moved forward, and touched Jack on the shoulder. Sure enough, he had fallen asleep. My touch, though, was all it took to awaken him from his nap. He immediately altered course.
When we arrived at our next fishing spot, we talked--and laughed a little, too--about what just had happened. At the same time, we made a pact for me to tap him on the shoulder or do whatever it took to get his attention anytime I thought he had dawdled off. That happened a lot--not just for me but for other partners, too, over the years.
There was just something about riding down the lake on a calm day, with bright sunshine overhead, that seemed to put Jack to sleep. We razzed him mercilessly about being "the old man" in our group, but he could take it with the best of 'em. As a Navy enlisted detailer, he was quite familiar with taking plenty of grief.
Epilog: Fellow West Neck angler Skip Schaible sent me a note, saying he had gotten a good laugh from the rod story. He also told me about a rod story of his own. It seems he and his wife, Leslie, once were in Best Products (current tenant is Best Buy) at the corner of South Independence Boulevard and Euclid Road in Virginia Beach. Best Products carried some sporting goods--including some fishing rods--and Skip was attempting to show his wife how you could bend an Ugly Stick in half (as he, too, had seen in a TV commercial). The rod ended up flying into three or four pieces. Suffice it to say that Skip hasn't owned an Ugly Stick to this day.
Epilog: Fellow West Neck angler Skip Schaible sent me a note, saying he had gotten a good laugh from the rod story. He also told me about a rod story of his own. It seems he and his wife, Leslie, once were in Best Products (current tenant is Best Buy) at the corner of South Independence Boulevard and Euclid Road in Virginia Beach. Best Products carried some sporting goods--including some fishing rods--and Skip was attempting to show his wife how you could bend an Ugly Stick in half (as he, too, had seen in a TV commercial). The rod ended up flying into three or four pieces. Suffice it to say that Skip hasn't owned an Ugly Stick to this day.
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