By Bud Fields
A group of my fishing buddies and I gathered around a table in a restaurant, enjoying a cup of coffee, and of course, we were reminiscing about fishing experiences that stood out in our memories. It was a basic old geezer round table, and trust me, we catch more fish and shoot more deer in this setting than in the woods or on the water. It seems to become more prevalent as we advance in years.
Anyone who knows me very well knows that I am rather quiet and prefer to listen and laugh at and with other people. I attempt to find humor in someone else's situation, but when it is my turn to share, I confess that I would rather not confess in public or forget it altogether. I tried my best to pass and allow someone else to tell their story when my friend, Doug, asked me to relate a particular situation he referred to as "when Bud earned his angel wings."
This event occurred a couple years ago, but I will share it with you. Allow me to state that some words have been changed and altered for publication.
I was attending a bass-club meeting, and we were discussing the upcoming tournament on Lake James in northern Indiana. I have always enjoyed fishing this lake for its water clarity and habitat. You also can see some fantastic homes, meet nice people, and see an assortment of wildlife while you fish.
As we began the partner draw, I was introduced to a brand new member of the club. He was a tall, lanky young man, who never had fished a bass tournament. We shook hands, and he told me he had attended a number of my seminars around the area. He said he was excited to be fishing as my non-boater partner. He apologized in advance for not being overly experienced and hoped to learn some fishing tips from me. He was anxious for the tournament to get here. We made our plans for when, where and what time we would meet for the trip to the lake.
I spoke with him on the telephone a number of times and had hoped that we could make a trip to the lake before the tournament so we could pre-fish and establish a couple of productive patterns for catching fish, increasing our confidence. He recently had started a new job and could not get time off, so I told him I would make at least one trip to the lake. Pre-fishing is really exciting, and it can be important. I made two trips to the lake and established a pattern that was producing fish.
As we drove to the lake the morning of, I shared what I had discovered.
We made our run to my Plan A location, and I told my partner, "This tournament will be won before 9 a.m." I shut down the motor, lowered the trolling motor, and started working the piers. On the second cast toward the seawall, I retrieved my lure along the edge of the pier, and a huge largemouth totally engulfed my lure. I set the hook, and the fight was on. I tried to remain calm. I also was trying to keep my partner calm and quiet, because we had another boat not far from us, and I did not want to get their attention.
I was fighting the bass and trying to talk my partner through the netting process without knocking the bass off the hook. After what seemed like hours, I finally got the bass in the landing net. We had the fish in the boat. It was a dandy. I had an electronic scale in one of my storage boxes, and we unofficially weighed the fish at 6 lbs. 4 ozs. It was the largest Indiana bass I had caught in years. I filled the aerated livewell with water and added a couple tablets to lower the stress on the fish. I had a feeling I was on the way to winning the tournament and the big-bass pot.
We fished at different locations and spoke to some competitors. My partner was telling everybody about the big bass. We caught a few short bass and were having fun, telling jokes and maybe a lie or two, when I felt the tap of another bass as it picked up my 4-inch junebug ringworm. I set the hook and boated another keeper bass that measured exactly 14 inches. That made two keepers, and from that point on, about the only thing that happened was casting practice and joke-telling. The fish had completely shut down...exactly the same as in my pre-fishing trips.
As we continued fishing, we talked with other anglers who either had not caught a fish or only had caught shorts. We talked with a few who had one bass that barely measured, and we started carefully watching the clock so we would be certain to arrive at the weigh-in on time. With less than 30 minutes remaining, I suggested we start heading back to the ramp to fish along the bank to end the tournament.
I was feeling somewhat better about my chances when we got there and saw other anglers already putting their boats on the trailer. I told my partner we would tie up the boat to the pier and weigh-in the fish. Afterward, I planned to back the trailer down the ramp.
I was at the front of the boat, leaning over and tying the rope to the pier, when I heard someone pull alongside my boat and say, "We hear Bud caught a 6-pound-plus bass. I have not seen a bass that big in Indiana for years."
"Well, my back was turned, and I guess my new partner decided to open the hatch to the livewell, reach in, and grab the big bass by the lip and hold it up to show the anglers. I heard a resounding splash, and I turned around and saw my partner looking down toward the water. He looked at me with big eyes and swallowed hard but never said a word.
I hoped between the two fish that he had dropped the smaller of the two, but it was the big bass. Everyone at the ramp waited for me to go ballistic. I tried my best to remain calm. I asked him, "Did you just drop the big bass in the lake?" He just nodded his head. I asked him, "Why did you take the bass out of the livewell?"
"I wanted to show them the big bass," he said.
I had all kinds of dirty, unprintable words running through my head, but I didn't use them. OK, I used a few but finished by saying, "You never take a fish out of the livewell until you are ready to weigh them in."
Well, folks, I have to confess I was furious. My blood pressure hit a new high, but I had to remember that he was an inexperienced angler and didn't know any better. He felt terrible about what had happened, and there was nothing he, nor I, could do to recapture that bass.
As we took the shorter of the two bass to the scales, I congratulated the winner for his one fish that weighed in at 2 lbs. 10 ozs., and my fish came in at just under 2 lbs. I had gone from winning the tournament and the big-bass pot to finishing in fifth...in a splash. That one fish would have won everything.
What made it somewhat more tolerable was that I had a number of people telling me that I was a saint. They would say, "I sure wish I had your ability to laugh things off." One member, who was an ordained minister, came up to me and said, "Bud, my man, today you earned your angel wings."
The author is an outdoor columnist with Indiana's Kokomo Perspective. This article, which appeared in the May 24, 2015, edition, reminded me of a couple events that have occurred in my life over the years. In one of those cases, a pastor was the one who cost me a big fish, so you can bet I bit my tongue extra hard that day.
No comments:
Post a Comment