Story Eight
Grandpa's Unlikely Fishing Buddy
Dear Samuel,
I have discovered some secret fish’n holes in my life. In fact I have found some that are not known by many folks. In the future I hope we will find some of these places together! I hope your father will guide you through some of my stories, when you are old enough, in proper context. This story is about a place out in the boondocks of rural Missouri and is included in this little book because I believe God has a sense of humor and wants us to laugh and joke a bit, in the full measure of love.
This story takes place in Osage City. It is a very small river town with only one store where a guy can buy some ice and live bait and first aid (Jack Daniels) to apply to a wound or relieve any stress one might have lingering from life in the city. I made a last minute stop for a small half pint of Tennessee whiskey and a bag of ice, and some night crawlers. Then I drove to “Smokey Waters” at the confluence of the Missouri and Osage Rivers to a swampy secret place to fish. This back water place is between the rivers in a flood prone area. But dry weather produced cracked mud along the shore, and very low river levels. A fisherman can use low water to his advantage, because fish find deeper spots and are easy to locate. I had heard of some big catfish caught in the approximate location so when I found a deep hole I believed a monster might be lurking there! I expected to catch a real river monster. The place was a “scour hole, created by a rock wall designed to keep the river channel deep. The eddy was off the main current and easy to access because of the extremely low water level. I guessed the hole was now only about 15 feet deep when in near flood stage the place I stood would be covered by at least thirty five feet of water. Sitting on an old tree washed up onto the rock pier, I surveyed the location, it was the kind of place on the Missouri River were one could imagine gators, if the winters continue to be warm, the gators may decide to come up north, no gators now, but there are plenty of snakes, to keep this fisherman alert. I saw several snakes when I began to fish, but I did not mind, because snakes seem to bring me good luck when it comes to fishing. The swampy looking place had a steep bank that dropped off into the murky water, I imagined a monster catfish would make a den in that bank, and I believed I could drop a big night crawler or frog bait so close a brute, would ambush my bait and I would set the hook and succeed in my quest for a monster catfish. I climbed over dead trees washed up by the previous floods and dropped down to the river’s edge. Without slipping I found the lowest place to stand. I dropped my rig, (a big weight 16 inches above a circle hook shish-kabobed night crawlers topped off with a big piece of chicken liver and stink bait on the end of the hook. Time passed and I began to get sleepy, I dozed off and napped until my rod jerked down and woke me up with a big tug! I had a fish on and the battle lasted until there was a tightening of the lie and no way to bring in the fish. The big catfish had evaded capture by swimming under logs or who knows what at the bottom of the scour hole. After some extensive pulling from different positions, I decided it was necessary to just cut the 5olb. test line. When I began to retie a new rig, I discovered I had left the bag of new hooks in my car. Why didn’t I put them with everything else in my tackle box? In fifty years of fishing should have learned to be more organized, I mumbled as I walked back the dusty river trail to my car!
Once I was back to my fishing location with the paper bag containing hooks, I felt pretty tired. After I rigged up again and cast out, I was determined not to lose the next fish! I started dozing off as now the sun was low in the late afternoon sky and I was blessed by shade. About that time, I fell asleep in that delightful place under an ancient river oak. I must have been dreaming when I spotted a cottonmouth snake with a frog in his mouth. "Frogs are good bait" I reckoned. Knowing the snake couldn't bite me with the frog in his mouth; I arose from my reclined position under the shade tree and stood motionless hoping he might swim to the bank and dine on his catch near me! As luck would have it, the snake did exactly that. Then I stalked this new river monster and grabbed him right behind the head, I took his frog, and put it in my bait bucket. Just then, I realized I had a problem, this guy was mad, so I stepped back and we eyed each other. His squinty eyes meant he wanted his frog back, so I planned to calm this viper, the only way I knew how... with a good shot of whiskey! I never interrupted my stare and kind of out stared the mad reptile. I extracted the small bottle of Jack Daniels from my hip pocket, and then with stealth and my overpowering stare down, I moved close to the snake. I poured a little whiskey in its mouth. The snakes eyes rolled back and he went limp. I released him into the river without incident and carried on fishing using the frog I rudely took from Mr. Snake. Of course the frog bait produced a bite right away and I let line strip off my reel until I was sure a big cat had the bait swallowed. Then I reeled up the slack and let the circle hook do its job. A battle ensued that was like nothing I had ever experienced and I caught a huge flathead catfish that was a new world record! Then with no cessation of my dream, I woke to a nudge at my foot. There was that same snake with two more frogs in his mouth. I had a live bait delivery service that lasted till the snake got too drunk to catch frogs for me! Life is good on the Missouri River down near Osage City!
I have discovered some secret fish’n holes in my life. In fact I have found some that are not known by many folks. In the future I hope we will find some of these places together! I hope your father will guide you through some of my stories, when you are old enough, in proper context. This story is about a place out in the boondocks of rural Missouri and is included in this little book because I believe God has a sense of humor and wants us to laugh and joke a bit, in the full measure of love.
This story takes place in Osage City. It is a very small river town with only one store where a guy can buy some ice and live bait and first aid (Jack Daniels) to apply to a wound or relieve any stress one might have lingering from life in the city. I made a last minute stop for a small half pint of Tennessee whiskey and a bag of ice, and some night crawlers. Then I drove to “Smokey Waters” at the confluence of the Missouri and Osage Rivers to a swampy secret place to fish. This back water place is between the rivers in a flood prone area. But dry weather produced cracked mud along the shore, and very low river levels. A fisherman can use low water to his advantage, because fish find deeper spots and are easy to locate. I had heard of some big catfish caught in the approximate location so when I found a deep hole I believed a monster might be lurking there! I expected to catch a real river monster. The place was a “scour hole, created by a rock wall designed to keep the river channel deep. The eddy was off the main current and easy to access because of the extremely low water level. I guessed the hole was now only about 15 feet deep when in near flood stage the place I stood would be covered by at least thirty five feet of water. Sitting on an old tree washed up onto the rock pier, I surveyed the location, it was the kind of place on the Missouri River were one could imagine gators, if the winters continue to be warm, the gators may decide to come up north, no gators now, but there are plenty of snakes, to keep this fisherman alert. I saw several snakes when I began to fish, but I did not mind, because snakes seem to bring me good luck when it comes to fishing. The swampy looking place had a steep bank that dropped off into the murky water, I imagined a monster catfish would make a den in that bank, and I believed I could drop a big night crawler or frog bait so close a brute, would ambush my bait and I would set the hook and succeed in my quest for a monster catfish. I climbed over dead trees washed up by the previous floods and dropped down to the river’s edge. Without slipping I found the lowest place to stand. I dropped my rig, (a big weight 16 inches above a circle hook shish-kabobed night crawlers topped off with a big piece of chicken liver and stink bait on the end of the hook. Time passed and I began to get sleepy, I dozed off and napped until my rod jerked down and woke me up with a big tug! I had a fish on and the battle lasted until there was a tightening of the lie and no way to bring in the fish. The big catfish had evaded capture by swimming under logs or who knows what at the bottom of the scour hole. After some extensive pulling from different positions, I decided it was necessary to just cut the 5olb. test line. When I began to retie a new rig, I discovered I had left the bag of new hooks in my car. Why didn’t I put them with everything else in my tackle box? In fifty years of fishing should have learned to be more organized, I mumbled as I walked back the dusty river trail to my car!
Once I was back to my fishing location with the paper bag containing hooks, I felt pretty tired. After I rigged up again and cast out, I was determined not to lose the next fish! I started dozing off as now the sun was low in the late afternoon sky and I was blessed by shade. About that time, I fell asleep in that delightful place under an ancient river oak. I must have been dreaming when I spotted a cottonmouth snake with a frog in his mouth. "Frogs are good bait" I reckoned. Knowing the snake couldn't bite me with the frog in his mouth; I arose from my reclined position under the shade tree and stood motionless hoping he might swim to the bank and dine on his catch near me! As luck would have it, the snake did exactly that. Then I stalked this new river monster and grabbed him right behind the head, I took his frog, and put it in my bait bucket. Just then, I realized I had a problem, this guy was mad, so I stepped back and we eyed each other. His squinty eyes meant he wanted his frog back, so I planned to calm this viper, the only way I knew how... with a good shot of whiskey! I never interrupted my stare and kind of out stared the mad reptile. I extracted the small bottle of Jack Daniels from my hip pocket, and then with stealth and my overpowering stare down, I moved close to the snake. I poured a little whiskey in its mouth. The snakes eyes rolled back and he went limp. I released him into the river without incident and carried on fishing using the frog I rudely took from Mr. Snake. Of course the frog bait produced a bite right away and I let line strip off my reel until I was sure a big cat had the bait swallowed. Then I reeled up the slack and let the circle hook do its job. A battle ensued that was like nothing I had ever experienced and I caught a huge flathead catfish that was a new world record! Then with no cessation of my dream, I woke to a nudge at my foot. There was that same snake with two more frogs in his mouth. I had a live bait delivery service that lasted till the snake got too drunk to catch frogs for me! Life is good on the Missouri River down near Osage City!