I could bemoan the rapid degradation of conditions that spoiled a much anticipated fishing trip Monday, or I could see it for what it was -- a cosmic realignment.
It was my first fishing trip of the year with Ray Tucker, host of Ray Tucker's Arkansas Outdoors radio program that airs Wednesdays from 7-8 p.m. on 103.7-FM, The Buzz.
Tucker had been invited to fish a private oxbow lake off the Arkansas River in southeast Arkansas. Crappie fishing had been outstanding but had tailed off, Tucker said, but the access owner said the bass fishing had gotten very hot over the past few days.
We seldom have a bad outing, so we were confident of impending greatness. We ignored, unfortunately, a few niggling details that portended poverty, such as a hard east wind, a high-pressure front that was expected to build through the day, and bright, blue, sunny skies.
Oh, well. You fish the weather you have, not the weather you want. At least we wouldn't have to bail rainwater out of the boat with a Ziploc sandwich bag like we did last summer on a Caddo River float fishing trip.
There was another little wrinkle. The night before, my youngest daughter Hannah asked about my next day's plans.
"I'm going fishing with Ray," I said. "You want to go?"
Disappointment clouded her eyes for a mere instant, but it was unmistakable.
"No thank you," she said. "I just want to go fishing in the creek."
"We'll do that when I get back," I said. "I won't be gone all day."
The wind picked up almost at the instant I launched my boat, and then the electric starter on my motor wouldn't work. I had to start it with the pull rope.
We motored to a far bend with the intention of fishing a mile of beautiful cover back to the ramp. No sooner did we stop when biting black gnats swarmed us.
"It's like this bug spray is attracting them," Tucker said furiously as he flailed at the pests with his cap.
Due to thick mats of grass, floating frogs were about the only bait we could use. I got five strikes, but failed to catch a fish. The biggest one broke me off. Meanwhile the wind blew increasingly harder.
And then, about halfway back to the ramp, my trolling motor quit. Without it, we couldn't control the boat.
"What do you say we go back to the ramp, eat lunch and call it a day?" Tucker asked. "I think we're out of luck."
"That's cool," I said. "I've got something I really need to do back home anyway."
I fought to stay awake when I entered my driveway, where Hannah greeted me holding a little bucket of worms she'd excavated from her flower bed. I quickly rigged an ultralight spinning rig with a 5-foot Falcon rod for bream, and we hopped on my four-wheeler for the ride to the creek.
It's a shallow, narrow creek with a sandy bottom that flows through thick woods. It doesn't look like much, but my kids have always loved fishing there.
I pinched off a section of night crawler and threaded up the long shank of the narrow-gap bream hook.
"Cast in the middle of that little riffle there, and let the current carry it into the hole," I said.
Hannah made a perfect cast, closed the bail and watched the bobber dance as it meandered down the rill. The bobber braked the instant it hit the deep water, and then it plunged. Hannah pulled up on the rod and hooked a little bluegill.
"Look at you!" I said. "You've caught more fish in five minutes than I caught all day!"
She caught an identical bluegill shortly after, and then another.
"See that little hole above that riffle?" I asked. "There are bigger fish in that deep pocket where that log goes across."
"How many snakes do you think are there?" Hannah asked.
"None," I said.
She waded to the hole on a little sand ridge that was about shin deep and made a perfect cast.
"Two bass are following it!" she shouted.
The bass wouldn't play, but she caught another bluegill and a longear sunfish. Mosquitoes were beginning to swarm when Hannah returned to the first hole. She caught her sixth and final fish before the mosquitoes sapped her resolve.
She sang songs from Les Miserables all the way back home. I didn't even take a rod, but I was happier than I would have been if I'd caught a cooler full of fish at Tucker's honey hole.
Sports on 05/03/2018