Chief Longwind Of The North
Certified/Certifiable
All this talk about fishing on the camp food thread got me thinking about great times I've had with a fishing pole in my hand. I'll tell you some of mine, if you'll tell me some of yours.
1. I was a youngster of about ten years and had talked my Dad into letting me bring a freind with us, to one of our favorite streams. My Dad wasn't much into taking others, because he wanted to keep our best places secret.
Well, I, and my freind were fishing opposite sides of the stream, with my Dad ahead of us, but within earshot. Donny, (my freind), stepped toward the edge of the bank in order to reach a good looking hole. Suddenly, he started yelping, and jumping around, and heading away from the stream. As he moved, he yelped - "Bees!" I knew then that he'd stepped squarely on a ground hornets nest. I move quickly forward so as not to get stung myself.
Now you have to understand that a year before, and two years before that, I had stepped on ground hornets nests and got all stung up. I had a healthy fear of the little flying beasts.
After the day of fishing was done, we all headed back to the two-track that would take us back to the car. Well, Donny saw a great ant mound in the middle of the two-track. I wasn't all that sure that it was filled with ants, and still had the fresh memories of Donny's encounter with the yellow jackets. The, I looked up. Above my head circled several deer flies. Now a deer fly doesn't look a lot like a hornet, or wasp. But it is yellow-bodied.
I panicked. I took off running as my Dad tried to tell me that they were only deer flies. But he was having a hard time because he was laughing so hard. I ran all the way to the car, about a mile in distance, looking upward and still seeing the deer flies buzzing above me. I then ran all the way back to where my Dad and Donny were still walking. My dad stopped me and let me know of my erroneous identification of the bugs. I had lost a shoe during the run, and had abandoned it, as I wasn't about to slow down and retrieve it while the deer flies were chasing me. I picked it up on the way to the car. We laughed about the incident for years.
2. My Dad had rented a row boat from which we were to fish a great perch filled area called Back Bay. He rowed us out and set the anchor. We proceeded to fish with minnows and night crawlers. Now my Dad was one of the best fishermen I have ever known. He never got skunked. Me, it was a 50/50 chance whether I would catch fish in open water.
Dad fished one side of the boat, and I fished the other. Suddenly, I started catching fish, as fast as I could get them off the hook and re-bait my line. Dad wasn't getting a bite. After about ten minutes of this, he pulled rank on me, which I didn't think was at all fair, and we changed sides. As luck would have it, the school of perch moved with me, and the process continued. I was pulling them up as fast as I could, and my poor Dad wasn't getting any. That was the only day in my life that I out-fished my Dad.
3. Me and Dad were fishing a beaver dam. He was a ways away from me, and we were both having good luck. I spotted a submerged log, with a good looking hole under it. I flipped my night crawler toward the log, and sure enough, a beautiful brookie darted out from underneath, intent on inhaling my worm. To my surprise, he stopped short of it by about 3 inches. It was like he ran into an invisible pane of glass. He lunged a couple more times, with each effort resulting in him coming up short. He slunk back under the log, giving up on the worm.
Now he was a nice fish, and I wanted him. Besides, my curiosity was running full boar. So I flipped the worm toward him again, but this time closer to the log. Sure enough, he lunged and gulped the worm. I set the hook and began to reel him in. But at that same spot that he'd been unable to pass before, he came to a dead stop again. And I couldn't move him. I wasn't going to lose that fish.
The water didn't look too deep, and so I waded in. It rose up to my chest. When I got to the fish, and bent down to get it, I found out what was causing this strange circumstance. Someone else had caught this critter before me, but had snapped his line. The fish was still tethered to the log by the other hook and fishing line. So I reached into the water and snipped the line, saving both me and the fish a slow death by starvation. Well, maybe I wasn't starving, exactly, but I was awful skinny in those days.
I have so many wonderful stories about fishing, things like catching my best friend in the ear lobe, or outrunning a lake freighter at night, in a canoe with no lights, or watching my Dad fall out of the canoe, things like that. But now, it's your turn. Share with us a good memory.
Seeeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North
1. I was a youngster of about ten years and had talked my Dad into letting me bring a freind with us, to one of our favorite streams. My Dad wasn't much into taking others, because he wanted to keep our best places secret.
Well, I, and my freind were fishing opposite sides of the stream, with my Dad ahead of us, but within earshot. Donny, (my freind), stepped toward the edge of the bank in order to reach a good looking hole. Suddenly, he started yelping, and jumping around, and heading away from the stream. As he moved, he yelped - "Bees!" I knew then that he'd stepped squarely on a ground hornets nest. I move quickly forward so as not to get stung myself.
Now you have to understand that a year before, and two years before that, I had stepped on ground hornets nests and got all stung up. I had a healthy fear of the little flying beasts.
After the day of fishing was done, we all headed back to the two-track that would take us back to the car. Well, Donny saw a great ant mound in the middle of the two-track. I wasn't all that sure that it was filled with ants, and still had the fresh memories of Donny's encounter with the yellow jackets. The, I looked up. Above my head circled several deer flies. Now a deer fly doesn't look a lot like a hornet, or wasp. But it is yellow-bodied.
I panicked. I took off running as my Dad tried to tell me that they were only deer flies. But he was having a hard time because he was laughing so hard. I ran all the way to the car, about a mile in distance, looking upward and still seeing the deer flies buzzing above me. I then ran all the way back to where my Dad and Donny were still walking. My dad stopped me and let me know of my erroneous identification of the bugs. I had lost a shoe during the run, and had abandoned it, as I wasn't about to slow down and retrieve it while the deer flies were chasing me. I picked it up on the way to the car. We laughed about the incident for years.
2. My Dad had rented a row boat from which we were to fish a great perch filled area called Back Bay. He rowed us out and set the anchor. We proceeded to fish with minnows and night crawlers. Now my Dad was one of the best fishermen I have ever known. He never got skunked. Me, it was a 50/50 chance whether I would catch fish in open water.
Dad fished one side of the boat, and I fished the other. Suddenly, I started catching fish, as fast as I could get them off the hook and re-bait my line. Dad wasn't getting a bite. After about ten minutes of this, he pulled rank on me, which I didn't think was at all fair, and we changed sides. As luck would have it, the school of perch moved with me, and the process continued. I was pulling them up as fast as I could, and my poor Dad wasn't getting any. That was the only day in my life that I out-fished my Dad.
3. Me and Dad were fishing a beaver dam. He was a ways away from me, and we were both having good luck. I spotted a submerged log, with a good looking hole under it. I flipped my night crawler toward the log, and sure enough, a beautiful brookie darted out from underneath, intent on inhaling my worm. To my surprise, he stopped short of it by about 3 inches. It was like he ran into an invisible pane of glass. He lunged a couple more times, with each effort resulting in him coming up short. He slunk back under the log, giving up on the worm.
Now he was a nice fish, and I wanted him. Besides, my curiosity was running full boar. So I flipped the worm toward him again, but this time closer to the log. Sure enough, he lunged and gulped the worm. I set the hook and began to reel him in. But at that same spot that he'd been unable to pass before, he came to a dead stop again. And I couldn't move him. I wasn't going to lose that fish.
The water didn't look too deep, and so I waded in. It rose up to my chest. When I got to the fish, and bent down to get it, I found out what was causing this strange circumstance. Someone else had caught this critter before me, but had snapped his line. The fish was still tethered to the log by the other hook and fishing line. So I reached into the water and snipped the line, saving both me and the fish a slow death by starvation. Well, maybe I wasn't starving, exactly, but I was awful skinny in those days.
I have so many wonderful stories about fishing, things like catching my best friend in the ear lobe, or outrunning a lake freighter at night, in a canoe with no lights, or watching my Dad fall out of the canoe, things like that. But now, it's your turn. Share with us a good memory.
Seeeeeeya; Chief Longwind of the North