While the Fuller family enjoyed fine fishing in Canada last week, my kids and I struggled to get a bite on Kingfisher Lake.
Kingfisher Lake is a 100-acre droplet inside Petit Jean River Wildlife Management Area in Yell County near Centerville. It is shallow and deeply stained, with an unspoiled bank lined with vegetation and fallen logs. Stumps rise from the bottom like porcupine spines. Their tops are just deep enough so you can't see them, but shallow enough to snag a small outboard motor.
It has a good population of largemouth bass, with a minimum length limit of 15 inches. It also has bream, crappie and catfish, but Kingfisher is most noteworthy in this region for its alligators. It is the northernmost part of the state that has them.
I saw one the last time I fished at Kingfisher years ago with Clark Reehm, a Bassmaster Elite Series pro who lived in Russellville at that time.
That was a tough day for fishing, too, but we enjoyed some fast, if sporadic, action on schooling bass on the upper end of the lake.
My son Matthew and daughter Amy arrived early in the evening Monday, but even at 4:30 p.m. the heat and humidity were stifling.
The lake was high, and the water pushed well past the normal shoreline, inundating a veritable forest of brush, shrubs and trees. It looked perfect for pitching soft-plastic frogs.
Pitching brush is really a one-man pursuit. The guy in the front of the boat gets first and best crack at everything. Anyone fishing behind him picks up crumbs. Since my kids have no experience pitching and flipping with baitcasting tackle, they were in jeopardy of being locked out of the game.
I briefly considered this just reward for the hard time they gave me over a lost fish at Lake Barnett recently, but a good dad has mercy on his children. To give them a chance at some action, I backed the boat away from the bank and tried to hit what I could with long casts while they nibbled at the edges.
That created a new problem because that's a two-person game. Amy and Matt are very competitive at fishing and have been since they were tots. I used to take them bream fishing at a community pond when Matthew was about 5 and Amy was about 3. In alternating fashion I let her catch the first bream. I re-baited and handed the rod to Matthew, but she attacked him. I had to restrain her while she screamed and wailed so he could fish in peace.
It was a problem on this day, too, because they threw at the same targets. I gave her a heavy spinning rod with a Carolina rig and put a junebug Zoom Tiny Lizard on the hook. Since we weren't getting any bites in the vegetation, she might have a better chance fishing on the other side of the boat in open water, I said.
I explained how to work the Carolina rig. Cast well past the front of the boat and drag the lizard back slowly across the bottom.
From her skeptical expression I believe she felt like I'd thrown her a red herring to get her out of the way. That wasn't true. I really wanted to catch bass on that frog, but I believed the fish were away from the bank.
About 20 minutes later, Amy's rod bowed.
"I think I've got one, Daddy!" she said, startled.
"Sweep your arms and set the hook," I said urgently.
She did, and her line sliced through the water toward the boat. A keeper largemouth leaped and continued fighting.
She guided it to the boat, where Matt netted it and brought it aboard.
"It's my first largemouth bass, Daddy!" Amy said excitedly.
Other than a couple of tiny bass that I caught, Amy ruled the day. She was merciless to Matthew about it, too.
"I was almost asleep when I felt that fish on," she chirped. "It practically hooked itself. It's so easy anybody could do it.
"Well," she continued, giving Matthew the stink-eye, "almost anybody."
She went on and on. Matt was silent, but his pursed lips spoke volumes.
We also got close to an alligator. That was pretty exciting, but Amy declined Matt's dare for an up-close encounter.
Sports on 06/28/2015