Springtime morning on water joyful
The boat coasted to a stop over a long submerged point just as the eastern horizon lightened, showing the slightest hint of color. Tiny waves danced across the calm surface as a brisk and short- lived westward wind crept across the bay. As the sun peeked over the mountain, air that had been almost eerily quite suddenly resonated with harmonious bars sung by birds roosted near the lake’s edge and eager to experience a new day.
As the sun continued to climb, a gobbler answered the coarse caw of a crow from a distant hillside. Within seconds the gobble from yet another tom, informing his harem of hens of his whereabouts, echoed from the back of a nearby pocket. Although the most distant gobbler had little to say after his initial outburst, the other bird continued sounding off at regular intervals.
Casting the chugger near the shoreline, I became mesmerized while watching the lure dance across the water’s surface with every stiff twitch of the rod tip. Inching the lure toward the boat with perfect timing, I would occasionally stop the retrieval, allowing the lure to float motionless for a few seconds, before barely twitching the rod tip three or four times then continuing my retreat of the clear plastic plug.
Detecting a splash directly behind me, I wheeled around just in time to see ripples in the water, indicating that a fish had just surfaced, engulfed a baitfish and immediately disappeared into the depths. With my thumb on the release button, I sat totally motionless staring across the water’s surface, taking in the entire scene, anticipating another fish’s surface bolt for its next potential meal.
As another bass suddenly broke the surface, I quickly cast just beyond the waves and began chugging the lure across the water and over the exact spot the fish had given away its whereabouts. The fish may have chased a school of shad several feet away while the lure sailed through the morning air, but I was hopeful that it was within striking distance of my presentation.
The water suddenly erupted exactly below my lure, cueing me in that the bass had found my presentation more than it could stand. Planting my feet and giving the rod a good stiff jerk, I set the hook and the fight was on.
Dislodging the hook from the fish’s mouth, I quickly glanced up upon hearing a commotion. The water’s surface suddenly came to life as a school of fish had obviously corralled some shad only feet away. Promptly dislodging the hook, I quickly drew back and cast just beyond the fish, and within a couple of twitches of the rod tip, another bass
attacked my lure and I was engulfed again.
The school moved on by the time I dislodged the hook from the fish’s mouth, but within seconds I kicked the trolling motor in high gear and rushed in the direction of another feeding frenzy. Confident I was within casting distance, I hurled the lure through the cool morning air and the chugger literally fell right among the action.
Before I could get situated, a fish rushed to the surface and attacked my lure. Immediately setting the hook, I worked it toward the boat. It didn’t take long to deduce that this one was considerably bigger than anything I had caught that morning.
As the fish headed for deeper water, the rod doubled over and line peeled from the reel. Confident I had tied into a striper, I steadily worked it toward the surface while trying not to rush matters. Nearing the surface, the fish would bolt again and the drag would suddenly sing. As the striper eventually tired, I positioned myself to get a net underneath the fish.
While I dislodged the hook, the school of fish were gone as suddenly as they had appeared. The small window of time when the fish rose to the surface in a fury was over and it was time for me to return home. and writing after encountering a bear on the Ouachita Trail in 1997. His goal is to promote “getting out of the house” and enjoy- He also focuses on promoting the introduction of children to the outdoors.