'Twas the Month Before Christmas 2021

{This slightly edited version of my November 13, 2012 post, like its original model, is dedicated in memory of Dewey Mullins (above), who passed from this life on Nov. 8, 2012. Hope you’re still catching those lunkers Up Yonder, my ol’ friend.}

‘Twas the month before Christmas in the year 2021,

And bassers everywhere still were runnin’ and havin’ fun.

So what if the nights were getting cold, making our old bones ache?

And God help you if you happened to hit another boat’s wake.

 

The stores already were gittin’ crazy with holiday shoppers galore,

Climbing o’er the top of one another and creating one heckuva roar.

Meanwhile, all we could think about was finding ol’ Bubba,

C’mon, fellas, what are we waiting for? Hubba-hubba!

 

Out of West Neck, we in our bass boats did all fly,

Snugly bundled up under that dark threatening sky.

We knew it’d be a miracle if we didn’t get wet this day,

But so what? It’s never bothered us before. Hey! Hey!

 

Some turned north out of the creek, while others went south,

With one thing in common, though, and that was a closed mouth.

After all, none of us were looking to catch a death of cold,

Even if we perhaps were being a bit foolishly bold.

 

From Centerville Bridge north to Milldam Creek south we did all roam,

We hit ‘em with everything, but “crap…just another dink” we did mostly bemoan.

And then, just as frustration was beginning to sit in,

We felt that dreaded moisture start hitting our skin.

 

It started as a light mist, but soon changed to sleet,

Then came snowflakes—Oh boy! I thought, now we’re replete.

With that saying about the “worst day fishin’…” running all through my head,

I went digging through my tacklebox for something that had a little red.

 

Ahhh! Maybe this red-craw crankbait will do the trick,

So I hurriedly grabbed it and tied it on my St. Croix stick.

Chatterbaits, spinnerbaits, suspending jerkbaits and much more—

I’d tried ‘em all but hadn’t found a decent keeper heretofore.

 

Having just checked my watch, I realized that time was running short,

If I was gonna catch Bubba, this crankbait likely would be my last resort.

Cast after cast, I did fire toward the shoreline,

In my feverish hope to boat a big ‘un before the approaching deadline.

 

Just as I was thinking all hope for the day certainly must be gone,

The glimpse of a swirl, indicating a sizable fish, I did happen upon.

Wheeling and casting in what luckily was one succinct motion,

The bait barely had landed when the water erupted like an ocean.

 

Running hither and yon, this fish definitely had a mind all of its own,

Nothing I did resulted in the slightest amount of slowin’.

Oh Roland, oh Bill, oh Denny, Jimmy and Woo,

What should I do to tame this ornery “Shamu”?

With dexterity, he darted from one stump to the next,

Testing my reel to see if it met all of its specs.

Then, in one wild leap to spit that hook causin’ his pain,

I realized this fish wasn’t going to gain me any fame.

 

Bubba he was, but bass he definitely was not,

That mouth full of teeth told me why the battle was so hard-fought.

Call him bowfin or grindle—whatever you like,

The way I see it, he was just another pike.

 

Unhooking the critter, I tied things down, then headed for the barn,

Where I knew I’d catch plenty of razzin’ for this piece of yarn.

But what the hey? That joyous holiday season was nigh at hand,

When people would be celebrating all across this wonderful land.

 

Up North Landing River, I went at full bore,

I was gonna make weigh-in, even though I wouldn’t score.

Eating sleet mixed with snowflakes all along the way,

I couldn’t help feeling like it had been one mighty long day.

 

I just had throttled back, as I headed to the boat basin,

Twas catching my breath, ‘cause I knew I no longer had to hasten.

And suddenly, it no longer mattered what kind of razzin’ I’d have to withstand,

‘Cause my day on the water had been nothing short of grand.

 

Happy Holidays! and Tight Lines! I say to one and all,

Enjoy this beautiful season, and have yourself a ball.

In all things, though, please keep safety at the ready,

And whatever you do, don’t let that bubbly go to your ol' "heady”.