I sure miss the pond up the road.
In the evening, the water would become glassy smooth, reflecting the trees against the sunset. I would reel in my my fishing line and reach into my tackle box. I loved to pull out my secret weapon for this moment...my jitterbug. I would tie this funny looking lure on my line using a knot my brother taught me. He has always been a better fisherman than me. Of course, he's older...much, much older. Well, only 7 years, and amazingly, he was always willing to drag his little brother along to go fishing--state conservation areas, private lakes, Mark Twain, Taneycomo, the Mississippi, or just the pond up the road. This particular evening though, I was alone, tying on my secret weapon jitterbug that my brother gave me with the knot he taught me. I looked up the bank, picked my spot, and heard the satisfying little plunk as my lure hit its mark.
I began to reel. The jitterbug is a topwater lure designed to make a unique popping gurgle as it moves across calm water. It's supposed to be noisy to get the attention of an aggressive bass and entice a strike. Even if the ol' bass ain't hungry, it might come after a jitterbug just because it's mad.
I reeled about 20 feet when it happened. The lure's droning gurgle was smashed by the huge splash of an agitated bass. KASPLOOM! I paused just a moment and set the hook. There was more splashing and excited reeling and hanging on. The whole time, I could hear my brother's words: "Don't get too excited. Don't try to horse him in. Don't reel against the drag. Let him wear himself out. Nice and easy." I'm not sure that's what I did, but it's what I heard. I may have been alone physically, but somehow, my brother still managed to be there to help me...and he still is.
Lo and behold, I landed that bass. After more experience and seeing more bass about that size caught by others, I figure that bass must have weighed about 6 or 7 pounds. But I didn't have a scale. I didn't have a tape measure. I didn't have a camera. It was just a boy, a jitterbug, and the biggest bass he had ever caught...and it's still the biggest bass I have ever caught.
I didn't want to eat him, and I didn't want him to die. I wanted him to live to fight another day, yet another lesson learned from my brother, so I slid that big bass back into that little pond. With a flick of its tail, it was long gone...much like those days are long gone. The memories, though, they remain, vivid and beautiful.
I sure miss the pond up the road.
Just pretend this is witty.
In the evening, the water would become glassy smooth, reflecting the trees against the sunset. I would reel in my my fishing line and reach into my tackle box. I loved to pull out my secret weapon for this moment...my jitterbug. I would tie this funny looking lure on my line using a knot my brother taught me. He has always been a better fisherman than me. Of course, he's older...much, much older. Well, only 7 years, and amazingly, he was always willing to drag his little brother along to go fishing--state conservation areas, private lakes, Mark Twain, Taneycomo, the Mississippi, or just the pond up the road. This particular evening though, I was alone, tying on my secret weapon jitterbug that my brother gave me with the knot he taught me. I looked up the bank, picked my spot, and heard the satisfying little plunk as my lure hit its mark.
I began to reel. The jitterbug is a topwater lure designed to make a unique popping gurgle as it moves across calm water. It's supposed to be noisy to get the attention of an aggressive bass and entice a strike. Even if the ol' bass ain't hungry, it might come after a jitterbug just because it's mad.
I reeled about 20 feet when it happened. The lure's droning gurgle was smashed by the huge splash of an agitated bass. KASPLOOM! I paused just a moment and set the hook. There was more splashing and excited reeling and hanging on. The whole time, I could hear my brother's words: "Don't get too excited. Don't try to horse him in. Don't reel against the drag. Let him wear himself out. Nice and easy." I'm not sure that's what I did, but it's what I heard. I may have been alone physically, but somehow, my brother still managed to be there to help me...and he still is.
Lo and behold, I landed that bass. After more experience and seeing more bass about that size caught by others, I figure that bass must have weighed about 6 or 7 pounds. But I didn't have a scale. I didn't have a tape measure. I didn't have a camera. It was just a boy, a jitterbug, and the biggest bass he had ever caught...and it's still the biggest bass I have ever caught.
I didn't want to eat him, and I didn't want him to die. I wanted him to live to fight another day, yet another lesson learned from my brother, so I slid that big bass back into that little pond. With a flick of its tail, it was long gone...much like those days are long gone. The memories, though, they remain, vivid and beautiful.
I sure miss the pond up the road.
Just pretend this is witty.
