A Really Bad Day

We're always hearing about those things that annoy and cause bass fishermen to have a bad day, e.g., like having a flat tire on your trailer en route to the local fishing hole, fighting 20-30-mph winds with higher gusts all day, breaking your favorite rod, losing a big fish at the boat, or being one minute late for weigh-in when you're sitting on a winning limit.

Granted, all those things will cause any red-, white-, and blue-blooded fisherman to have what otherwise is known as a bad day, but let me ask you something. How about the fish? Have you ever considered that they, too, might have a bad day--and, further, that their one bad day might very well be their last?

I mean, how would you like to have all this expanse of water, like a lake or river, to run around in, and just as you stop to grab yourself a bite of something (albeit "fake" food at that) to eat, get snatched from your luxury surroundings and stuffed inside a hole, maybe alongside three or four others that made the same mistake? As if that isn't enough of an insult, you then get bounced around all over the place the rest of the day until you (hopefully) get tossed into a basket at day's end--along with all your "buds," and have your collective weight taken, before finally being returned to the same expanse of water you so rudely were plucked from hours earlier.

And all that's only if you're among the "lucky ones." Maybe your luck ain't so hot. I recently heard a story about one such unlucky bass.

My friend, Rob (right), told me that he had made a trip to the Chickahominy this past week with another fella. They were pre-fishing for a club tournament next weekend.

Rob dubbed the day's fishing as "tough," and given the fact they boated about 10 bass, without a single keeper in the bunch, I'd have to agree with his take on the day. However, there was one brighter moment--for Rob, that is.

According to his account, he had tossed a frog to the shoreline. A bass subsequently c-r-u-s-h-e-d the bait and put a terrific bend in Rob's rod, akin to what you'd expect from a big fish. He responded by burying the hook, and once he had the fish alongside the boat, glanced over to find it wasn't nearly as large as it had felt. Worse yet, the fish was bleeding profusely, from the frog hook lodged squarely in its throat.

Being conscientious, Rob reached over the side of the boat, so he could keep the fish partly in the water, and quickly but carefully removed the hook and released the fish. He noted that the bass appeared to be having some trouble taking off but looked like he would be OK.

Rob then turned his attention to his now-dilapidated bait. The fish had hit the frog so hard he had completely separated the hooks from the body cavity, which, as Rob explained, was spinning freely on the line in the wind.

Faced with no choice but to rip off the frog body, that's what Rob was doing when he suddenly heard a huge splash nearby and turned around just in time to witness an egret snatching what looked like Rob's hapless fish from just below the surface.

"Now that's what I call 'really having a bad day,'" said Rob, and I couldn't agree more. After all, how would we fishermen feel if, after suffering through a bad day on the water, we ended up having something a lot bigger than us swoop down from above and snatch our "wounded pride" carcass away for dinner?

Now there's something you can ponder a little bit this 4th of July holiday weekend as you enjoy a cookout, have a cool beverage, and/or just celebrate the event with family and friends. Have a safe one, folks!

Incidentally, Rob always is dropping little stories or ideas for them on me, then asking me not to post them on my blog. I listened very closely when he shared this one with me earlier today, and he never once asked me not to publish it, so guess what? I just gotta rib my tourney partner once in a while.