Bald eagles are majestic but sometimes maladroit fishers.
Canada geese don't fish. They are silly and malicious.
I reached these conclusions last week during my Arkansas fishing road show, which included stops at Huckleberry Lake near Dover and the Little Red River near Heber Springs.
Huckleberry Lake, a municipal water supply for Russellville, allows only electric motors. That can make fishing difficult because there always seems to be a northeaster howling through the hollow.
It's worse when you don't have a motor, such as it was Wednesday when I visited with my kayak. The only sheltered spot was the cove at the boat ramp, and I should have stayed there all day because big bass chased shad against the bank. I saw them from great distances throwing up little geysers and roostertail wakes as they smashed into prey.
Ah, but our wandering spirit convinced us that the northeast wind would drive even more shad against the south banks and bass would follow them. Besides, the fishing is always going to be better "over there."
My electronic graph confirmed that hunch. The screen was thick with arches and angled lines that showed fish dashing to the bottom. My 3-pound anchor gripped the bottom and held my kayak still about 50 yards inside the lip of a wide cove.
My objective was to catch fish with topwater plugs, specifically some new Storm Arashi Top Walkers and "Boings." The Boing has a cigar-shaped body with a concave face, but inside it has a metal ball attached to a titanium wire. When you retrieve it in a walk-the-dog fashion, the wire flexes side to side and thumps the bead against the walls.
The wind was too fierce for topwaters. I didn't get a bite until I switched to a Live Target Bait Ball square-billed crankbait, but every bass I caught was 10-12 inches.
I paddled into the teeth of the wind to the dam where I hoped to find bass on the riprap. I tried topwaters, crankbaits and swimbaits near the dam in depths of 5-25 feet. I caught green sunfish, but no bass.
I was in open water about 300 yards from the north shore when a bald eagle joined me. It glided in wide, lazy circles as it shadowed my course. That surprised me because bald eagles usually keep their distance from boats. It looked positively regal with its white and black feathers glowing in the evening sun.
Suddenly it swooped and grabbed a big fish off the surface no more than 30 yards from me. It didn't have a good grip, and the fish dropped to the water from a height of about 75 feet. The eagle seemed to shake it off, so I resolved to do the same. We all have days like that.
As I approached the boat ramp cove, the beach line looked as if it were being strafed. Yep, bass were still busy chasing shad, but I still couldn't catch them.
LIGHTNING STRIKE
Thursday brought an impromptu day trip for trout fishing on the Little Red River with Rusty Pruitt of Bryant.
Our destination was a stretch near Richey Shoal where we always catch brown and rainbow trout.
I wanted to fly fish, but I didn't have enough time. That's never an issue for Pruitt, who is casting within 15 minutes after arriving at any water.
For me it's a process. First I have to repair all the damage from my previous trip, like replacing tippets and leaders. I have to measure these elements to make sure they are not too long or short, and then I have to fret over the strike indicator and reacquaint with the contents of all the pockets on my fishing vest.
That's before I even get to the water. Once immersed, I have to spend some time creating snag loops in what should be closed systems and then waste time untangling loops that shouldn't exist in the first place.
After I get all that out of the way, I have a grand old time, but that requires starting shortly after breakfast. We started about lunchtime. I was too aware of the clock to relax, so I punted the fly rod and returned to the truck for a spinning rig.
When I returned, Pruitt caught three rainbows in about seven drifts with a fly called a "Chronic." The fish were in the shoal and hit his fly on the rise.
I fished the bottom of the shoal where it enters the big pool that runs all the way to Swinging Bridge. My lure was a Rapala Ultralight Minnow in brown trout pattern, a dependable low-water trout lure. It didn't disappoint, as a small brown trout smashed it on the first cast at a current seam in front of a boat dock.
The next cast produced a 12-inch rainbow trout with markings that looked remarkably similar to the tiger trout that inhabits rivers and streams in southern Europe. Shortly after, I caught another small brown.
It was a classic Arkansas autumn afternoon, windy with richly saturated light. Yellow leaves blew off the sycamore trees while a big flock of Canada geese loafed around us. They were obviously used to spending close company with anglers.
A big flock of nearly 75 geese flying upriver was not so neighborly. We heard them long before we saw them, and when they rounded just over treetop height it looked like a scene from the movie Tora, Tora Tora!
As they passed overhead, their "bombs" pelted the water. They saw the geese on the water and banked around for another pass.
"Listen up, y'all!" I growled. "This Flying Fisherman mahi-mahi hat is the only hat I truly love. Before you crap on my hat, you better remember that the limit on you guys is two per day come November 18!"
"Honk! Honk!"
Insolent jerks.
The water rose a couple of hours before sunset. I switched to my most consistent high-water trout producer, a three-inch Sebile Stick Shadd. It works best moving with the current in a boat. From the shore you should cast to slack water. I cast to such a pocket next to a rock wall in front of an eddy.
A pop of the rod flipped the lure and flashed its pink and silver sides. A big brown trout corkscrewed up from under the ledge and smacked it. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and the entire scene was in high-definition.
The fish broke to the current, where it gained horsepower times five. It finally got loose, but I didn't mind. I saw it.
It was gorgeous, and it was a satisfying end to one of the best days of my year.
Sports on 10/04/2015