Sounds a Bit Fishy to Me: The “Catch 2”

Sounds a Bit Fishy to Me: The “Catch 2”

 James R. Aist

Just a couple of years before, we had built our pond on Snyder Hill, near Ithaca, New York and stocked it with “baby” largemouth bass. By this time, these bass had finally grown to a length (ten inches) that was legal to catch, and I figured it was time to start fishing. So, one Saturday morning in June, my 10-year-old son, Greg, and I decided to go fishing for the first time in our new pond.

In eager anticipation, we gathered up our fishing gear and headed for the pond, just 100 feet from our house. Now, these young bass had never even seen a fishhook, much less an artificial lure, so we figured it would be easy to fool them using plastic worms that I had rigged with multiple fishhooks (My good friend, John, had long ago taught me to put a tiny hook right at the tail end of the plastic worm, just in case a small fish would decide to bite there). The water was clear enough for us to see the plastic worms – and the fish following them – as we reeled in the line. This was going to be fun!

We took up our positions on either side of the swimming dock I had built on the far side of the pond, where the deep water was. Then we began casting, slowly reeling in our plastic worms so as to make them rotate, giving the impression that they were wriggling their way toward the bank. With my very first cast, several bass began to follow the lure, and one of them bit the worm near the middle and got hooked. So, I quickly jerked the rod to “set the hook” and reeled him in immediately. After catching another bass on my second cast, I noticed that even after a bass was hooked, other bass would continue to follow and nip at the “wriggling” tip of the plastic worm, where I had strategically placed the small fishhook.

After landing a bass with each of my first three casts, I was filled with confidence, pride and mischief. It was then that it occurred to me how I might impress Greg with my advanced fishing skills. So, I told Greg to watch my next cast, because I was going to catch two fish with one cast (shades of Babe Ruth and his famous homer, for you Yankee fans). At first, he thought I was just kidding around, but I confidently, and at the risk of appearing braggadocios, insisted that I was not. What happened next both blew his mind and vindicated me.

I cast my plastic worm out as far as I could toward the middle of the pond. Right away, a bass struck and got himself hooked toward the middle of the plastic worm, and I set the hook. But this time, I didn’t real him in right away. Instead, I “played” him for a while (i.e., I let him swim back-and-forth trying to get away). The idea was that if I played the first bass long enough, then one of the other bass would continue nipping at the free end of the worm and also get hooked, on the tiny hook at the tip. That way I could catch two bass with one cast. So I did, and I did; I caught two bass on the same worm with just one cast! That was thrilling, indeed, the more so because the water was clear enough for me to see the entire episode as it unfolded.

Well, Greg was duly impressed, and I was both impressed (with myself) and relieved that I had made good on my brag. We had really good fishing that day, and for the next few months as well, because the bass had not yet caught on to the ruse that we were perpetrating on them with artificial lures. But, all too soon, the bass began to grow out of their naiveté and catch (pun intended) on to us. That’s when we, too, had to become smarter, in order to catch them with any regularity. But, we never forgot that epic first day, when the bass were young and naïve, and we could have our way with them, even to the extent of this “two for one” fishing tale (which, by the way, is truly a true tale, really).

(For more of my True Tales, click HERE)

A Haven of Life

Bushtits mass on a birdfeeder in Salem, Oregon. A Haven of Life

By Angie Brown, Guest Author

            “There, there in the hickory tree. Do you see them?” I was telling my neighbor about the additions to my “bird sanctuary”: two scarlet cardinals. My back yard has a large stream that flows at the southeastern border of my property, called the Haskell Creek. This side of the water, between the house and the stream, there is an abundance of low bushes, some elderberry, sumac, and others I can’t identify. Several large hickory trees grow along the northern boundary of the three and a half acre lot.

Bird watching is relaxing and fulfilling. I spend many moments watching these interesting creatures that God has provided for us to enjoy. Their cheerful chatter and singing lightens the heart.  I try to identify the different ones. You can tell what they are, not only by color, but by their shape, their behavior, and the sounds they make. With the help of my son, I have set up a bird feeder on the large back lawn. The feeder is filled with only sunflower seeds, as I want to attract the smaller birds. Cracked corn and mixed birdseed tend to bring the larger birds, which I don’t particularly want.  Nevertheless, the crows do come to the compost pile at the far edge of the lawn. As I looked out my window one day, I saw a crow walking across the grass, dangling a used tea bag in his beak. He reminded me of Minnie Pearl’s hat with the hanging price tag. That gave me a chuckle and brightened my day.

Yonder in the pasture, as I refer to it, two or three decaying trees lie flat, felled by past storms. These trees make a good cover for the birds. They snatch a seed and hurry to crack and devour it. Birds need food, water, and a cover. What is here seems to be the elements for their survival. If you study birds closely, you’ll notice that they eat differently. The small ones take a seed and fly off to work on it. The large blue jays fill their beaks, jamming them full before leaving. Some like to eat on the ground, some in the feeder, and some in the tree or the tree trunk.

Directly to the south of the area, a luscious swamp has settled in, made by a small stream coming from a pond area across the street. This swamp gives the roaming mallards a place to feed on slugs and water weeds that are a part of their diet. Through my binoculars, which I keep handy at the window, I have observed hawks circling overhead, then lighting on top of a tall hickory tree. They watch patiently for a chance to assault the ducks as they leave the swamp.

I’ve also noticed other animals as well, around the foliage; for instance, a woodchuck or two squeezing under the pile of dead tree branches. Hopefully they will stay there and not raid my garden!  Further along are clumps of grasses, where I’ve seen rabbits frolicking. How fast a young rabbit can move when frightened!  They can also strip a garden of young shoots in no time. I’ve seen deer browsing nearby and have also heard that a bear was sighted in the area not long ago. Not surprisingly, two kinds of squirrels appear often, all year long — the small red squirrel and the larger fox squirrel. It’s a joy to see some life out there on a sunny day in the dead of winter. The hickory trees provide food that the squirrels store somewhere in a cozy nook to sustain them.

Above all, though, the birds are my favorite interests. Someone once said that birds, not rooted to the earth, are among the most eloquent expressions of life. The return of the birds each spring means renewal, confirming the continuity of life.

(For more stories by Angie Brown, click HERE)