Friday Fish

Sure, you can be a miserable Marxist Determinist, go right ahead and choose to leave your free-will behind. Or, on the other hand, you can make like a free agent and go fishing on the mighty Brazos. I chose that path.

It was a little slow at first, but that was alright. Patience, LSP, wait for the bite to switch on and enjoy the big birds casting fierce eyes for targets of opportunity. The one above swooped down on a perch I'd hooked, a first for me. Hey, my fish!

Then things started to roll and it was pretty much a fish with every cast, big Bluegill, decent Drum, and a scad of ferocious junior Striper. Back they went to fight again another day. Big fun, I tell you, and a welcome change from watching fauxtrage commies pull down statues.

I mean really, pulling down statues of Christopher Columbus, George Washington, Jefferson and General Lee is going to transform America into a genderless rainbow no-police utopia, and get Biden elected? Really? No, of course not, it's just a dropped-on-head-as-infant Marxist spasm.

Pseudo-Tet aside, I cut out while the catch was good and headed for home, the big Texan sky reflecting off the water of the river. And there it was, good action met tranquility.

Tight lines,

LSP

Fishing Ascension

It's important to have a plan, and this one was elegant in its simplicity. It went like this, drive to the marina, catch small fish and then use those very same fish to catch large fish. Compelling, eh?

And it worked well, initially. Cast into the depths with a small hook, a chunk of worm and pull out a little perch. Circle hook the perch under its dorsal and cast it out into the wider deep, and while you wait for a monster strike have fun catching more perch as you look at all the boats you don't own.

So far, so good. But the monster never struck, except once, when the light rod bucked and jumped as some ferocious predator snatched at the hapless baitfish. Big excitement, drop your amusement rod and head over to the real deal, which I did, and foolishly in the heat of the moment tried to reel in too aggressively. The big fish sensibly dropped the little fish.

Still, I lost count of the bluegill and kept a few to use as bait. If they'd been a little bigger I'd have kept a few for dinner too; so tasty, fresh bluegill out of Lake Whitney. I like them beer battered and served with fries, but pan fried's good too. Delicious.

Well, that'll come in a week or two. In the meanwhile, every blessing for the Feast of the Ascension and remember, plans are all very well but as with the apprehension of truth itself, rise and fall to the extent they're in harmony with that which is. The equation of mind to thing, say the philosophers. In this case, Leviathan Bass, maybe stripers, striking small perch at the marina, or not.

Fish on,

LSP

Ye Gods, I've Caught The Carp!

Unlike Satan, I try to take a day off, on Mondays, and what better way to spend part of that than checking out a new place to fish. It's not hard, put some rods in the bed of the truck, buy some kolaches and strong covfeve and off you go.

I arrived at the top secret Texan objective around Noon, after an intensive bout of front office porch work with the flock all morning, and sized things up. It looked right, smelled right, sage and cedar, and felt right. But would it be right and produce a catch?

Sure enough it did. Right out of the gate fish were tugging and thumping against my complex, scientific lure, a worm on a #6 bait holder allied to a single split-shot weight. Nice and easy does it, and then pull, a fish was on the hook and up came the first of five catfish. Good result.

Remembering that movement is a sign of life, I changed position and gently twitched the almost free floating bait along the bottom, but not for long. Something like Jan Sobieski's Hussars plowed into the hook with the kinetic energy of an ironclad phalanx.

Was it a monster catfish, a Leviathan Bass or something else, perhaps a dolphin? Hard to tell, as the monster of the deep dived, pulled, thrashed and eventually came to the surface. A carp, a huge great carp. Back you go, my friend.

Another even fiercer carp blew up the line again, in just the same spot, and I reeled it in only lose the hook as I brought the beast to land. But so what, we'd battled and one came out the victor. Sorry, carp, you lose this round.

And that was that. Pretty much a fish with every cast and we didn't even have a boat.

Tight lines,

LSP