It's dawn on Friday morning in Lonoke County, exactly 24 hours before the opening of muzzleloader deer season.
I'm hunting, not for deer, but for trophy largemouth bass.
Ray Tucker and I rose early to Join Roddy McCaskill of Carlisle and Dan Daugherty of Little Rock for a morning of fishing on McCaskill's 10-acre pond, which he built especially for fishing.
The pond contains about a half dozen islands separated by deep channels that reach about 22 feet deep. Aquatic grass carpets the bottom in the shallows. Natural brushpiles and artificial structures provide cover for fish. A dozen or so aerators circulate water and infuse oxygen.
Driving east on Interstate 40, I fretted that the trip was in jeopardy. Bluish clouds bruised the sky, which wept a light drizzle. Tucker and I were grateful that the rain abated when we arrived at the pond, but mosquitoes swarmed us when we opened the doors to our vehicles. These mosquitoes didn't do the usual window shopping for a place to light. These guys went straight for the food court.
Tucker immersed himself in a cloud of Deep Woods Off! as soon as his feet hit the ground. I had to paw around for my repellent, but Tucker came to my rescue and sprayed me down, as well.
"Those two guys are sure hogging the ramp!" yelled McCaskill, with mock exasperation. He and Daugherty were already catching bass one after the other.
As soon as we floated my boat, McCaskill proposed a wager.
"Want to go for biggest fish, or most fish?" McCaskill asked.
"They've been out here fishing all night, so they've already got an insurmountable lead on numbers," I said, "and they've probably got a big one or two tied up someplace."
"You know us well!" McCaskill retorted, "but we've only been here since 6:30. That was the time appointed by Mr. Tucker."
The last time I fished here was with McCaskill, Tucker and Vic Hiryak of Little Rock. Tucker and I took the numbers bet, but on the first cast, I caught a 5-pound bass with a chatterbait. Tucker and I caught big fish all day, but McCaskill and Hiryak whipped us on numbers.
On Friday, bass wouldn't bite a chatterbait. They rolled and swirled on Tucker's Whopper Plopper, but they wouldn't get a grip. McCaskill caught his fish with a crawdad colored crankbait, and Daughtery caught his fish with a worm.
Finally, I switched to a pearl colored swimbait on a red, 3/8-ounce swimbait head. I caught a couple of small fish, but the best bite of the day came at the pond's corner. I cast beyond a bit of structure and reeled past it. A big fish seized the swimbait while four big wakes streaked away from the structure. The fish ran straight at me, and I couldn't reel fast enough to keep the line tight. The fish was parallel with the boat when it jumped and spit the lure. We got a good look at it and estimated it to be about 5 pounds. That's the last fish that bit the swimbait.
I threw a clear Zara Spook along the edge of a bankside weedbed. A big fish slammed it, and I broke the line when I set the hook. Thankfully, I found the lure floating a few minutes later.
Later, we made another pass around the big bass corner. A massive wake surged away from the shallow water beside an island and took cover in the weeds against the other bank.
That was the last of the action, but I decided to try a swimbait again after detangling a massive spool knot in my spinning reel. It was a phenomenally creative tangle, and Tucker found it very funny.
I tied on the lure and noticed that I had only pulled my line through the first guide. Tucker thought this was even more funny.
After getting the line through all the guides, I tied a monofilament leader to my braid, and then tied the swimbait to the leader. Instead of cutting the tag end, I cut the leader, and the lure fell in the water. Tucker thought that was positively hilarious.
"Take four!" I said, disgusted.
My uni knot was truly a thing of beauty, but it was no use. The fishing was done, but the fellowship was not. The four of us adjourned to a local eatery and enjoyed each others' company for a while longer.