Fish On - Or Not

 

Thanks to our ongoing War Against The Weather it was cool this morning, only in the low/mid 80s. So whaddya do? After a brisk morning constitutional and Morning Prayer, 1928 BCP thank you very much on the front porch, head off to the lake. And that's exactly what happened.

Were the fish biting? Yes, they were, but not in a good way. These were ferocious little bites from ferocious little fish. Still fun on a light rod but hard to close the deal, and you start to feel like you're feeding the fish as they snatch and tug worms off your line. Huh.

Mildly annoyed at being a kind of food pantry for our aquatic adversary, I persevered and caught the main perpetrator, a ferocious little perch, a bait fish really, and I cast the little beast back into the depths on the end of the line as just that, bait. Did it produce a result?

It can do, no kidding, I've caught good sized striper from that very point using the exact same method, but today? No. Nothing. Yes, there were plenty of junior perch darting about but no mighty bass to catch them or be caught. Maybe the bass were sleeping after gorging on all the baitfish, maybe they were taking a Biden style nap after the rigor of actually waking up for the day, maybe, like our Commander in Chief, they weren't there at all.

Sensing that, with the sun now high in the sky, I headed across the dam to see if the legendary Lake Whitney spillway would yield up the goods. Sure enough, there was a cowboy fishing off the pier. You could tell he was a cowboy because he wore a straw hat and his flatbed truck had ranch brand logos on it. There he was, a cowboy, fishing.

not today, buddy

"How's it going, man?" I offered by way of piscine greeting, "Whole lotta bait fish here, like wow," and there were, great schools of shad and minnows. But he hadn't caught anything apart from a baby cat, and I commiserated with the tale of my baby perch, and off we went to cast again. With no luck whatsoever.

Sure, there were lots of shad, some large(ish), mid-sized gar floating lazily about the pool like submarines, a few buffalo carp being equally lazy, and none of them hitting on anything we put into the water. My cowboy pal left and I fished on, enjoying the clean Texan air, the sight of the mighty Brazos, and the sheer pleasure of being outside in the country. 

Must do more of that, most especially when the bass catch up to their watery prey. Hopefully that'll be soon. More anon.

Cheers,

LSP

Monsters Of The Deep?

So you're standing on the rip-rap like a warrior on the edge of time, beholding the mighty Brazos as it flows beneath you to Houston and its enormous Dalek. You have a choice, stare in amazement at the fabled waterway and reflect on its storied history or get a rod from the truck and go after some action.

There's no "rule," either way is OK, but I chose the latter path and went to the pier armed with a light Shakespeare Ugly Stick and a couple of boxes of worms. I felt the fish would love these worms and they did, snapping, tugging and bumping with pretty much every cast.

All well and good, but I wasn't closing the deal. Fishing wizardry told me juvenile perch and bass were plundering the line and a smaller hook was in order. Such is piscine soothsaying, don't discount it.

Sure enough, before too long I was reeling in the young 'uns, and ferocious predators they were too, going at the juicy worms like Democrats boarding a Greyhound for Chicago. But you're saying, in that mocking tone of voice, "Aren't they a bit small?"

Not so fast, readers of this popular international mind blog, they may have been small but a fish is a fish and even a small fish is value on a light rod. So I left the dam pleased, mission accomplished. 

And I tell you, it's good for the soul to get out in the clean air and big sky of an overcast Texan morning and fish, no matter what you catch.

Tight lines,

LSP

Where Is That Great Leviathan?

The Compound's training schedule isn't complex, no, far from it. In between group readings from Maritain, Gilson, Aquinas, Mascall, Berdyaev, the awesome Ratzinger, Farrer and so many more, we go fishing.

X in search of, sort of thing, and that's what we did today, headed out to Lake Whitney dam and tried our luck against the ferocious prehistoric ambush predators, Gar. Well it wasn't easy. Sure there were plenty of fish but they were shell shocked by the current.

You see, thanks to climate change it's been raining, turning Texas into a cross between an Amazonian rain forest and a floodplain. We caught the floodplain today and that meant no catching, the fish were all rolling on the current and not biting.

Still, good to get out in the sun by the water and enjoy the mighty Brazos. It was better once, before the dam and the lake, but that's a different story. 

In the meanwhile, Blue Nugget looks on. Hope, all two of you readers, springs eternal.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Fish

The day dawned clear, bright and full of hope. This was Saturday within the Octave of the Resurrection and invincibility came with it.

After Mattins a cowboy pastor swung by and we visited on the porch. "What's that new flag," he asked. "That'd be the Bonnie Blue," I replied. He liked it and we fixed a date to ride.

Business over, it was time to fish so I drove into the wilderness in search of the piscine adversary. Lake Whitney dam spillway was like Piccadilly Circus, maybe the Marina would be better. No, it was flooded by our ancient enemy, Global Warming.

Undaunted, I headed back to the dam and tried my luck, pulling out a couple of drum in the process while everyone else focused on catfish. They did well, too. All kinds of families will feast on catfish for the next year or two.

But not me. I left the scrum after the first couple of catches and headed for home, thanking God for Texas and the opportunity to fish.

Yours,

LSP

Get Back On The Gar!

Gar are living fossils, members of the Lepisosteiformes family of fish, which can be traced back through the fossil record to the Late Jurassic. They're also massively under fished and big fun to catch.

That's because these large predators typically put up a tremendous fight, running, thrashing, leaping and diving with your bait. Exciting, but there's a catch.

The Last Run

You see, the problem with these overlooked and abundant fish is that they're hard to catch. Sure, they'll take your bait, run with it and in a fit of enthusiasm you set the hook. Snap! but no, no snap, the contemptuous Gar drops it all and swims nonchalantly away. 

That's because your hook can't find purchase in the bony, Jurassic beak of the Gar, which cunningly plays with what's on offer before attempting to swallow the shad, worm, liver, minnow or whatever you're throwing in. This all translates into the fish being able to drop your bait during its first run.

Let's Zoom In

So don't try for a quick hookset, let the prehistoric beast make its run, then let it stop, meditate, play with the bait and run again. Be sure to let the drag play out to least resistance, you don't want to spook the fish, she'll drop everything and swim off. But keep with her; after a few minutes she'll start to swallow the bait and make an effort to head downstream.

Observe the fish through the technological marvel of your polarized glasses. Is the bait at the back of the Gar's beak, is it heading away from you, have you felt it trying to gulp the bait down, yes? Time to tighten the drag and set the hook. BANG, the fight's on.

Smallest of Three

And I tell you, it's well worth the patient opening act. Imagine the armored ambush predator, and they can be large, leaping furiously clear of the water on its charge to escape your line. Great excitement.

I brought three of these creatures up to the pier today but only landed one, the others were too large and broke the line (#12 test on a light rod). At this point it obviously makes sense to invest in a more substantial rig.

There's doubtless a moral in all of this but I won't draw it. That's up to you.

Fish on,

LSP

It's An Oven, Get On The Fish

It was a typically chilly Texan 104* and I looked at Blue Climate Change panting in his fur coat, "Perhaps it's time to go fishing, Gar like the heat." 

The dog said nothing, he regards my Gar obsession as foolish. All he's after is a better argument for Sola Scriptura (sorry, dog, fail) and against what he calls "the Abomination of Desolation!" 

Inner Light

No, I tell him. Having a statue of the Blessed Ever Virgin Mary in your church is not a sin against the Holy Spirit or any other kind of idolatry. He refuses to listen and wanders off in search of fried pies.

So much for the dog. I went in search of space and found Gar, lots of them, but only closed the deal on two, along with one miscreant Black Drum and a couple of opportunistic Bluegill. 

Beat The Drum

The Gar, furiously, bit through the line as they were being hauled up to the pier for a photo op. 

Maybe a steel leader is in order.

Beat the Jihad and Build the Wall,

LSP

The Mighty Power Of Gar

It was a typical day in LSPland, searing heat, a couple of rods and a near empty pier below Lake Whitney dam; I like that, no pressure. And there were lots of fish, Black Drum, shoals of Carp, one or two Bass, the odd predatory Perch and squadrons of Gar.

Don't waste time, get down to business and cast off. That meant one rod rigged with Shad and a sinker, a catfish rig, with a view to getting at the large bottom feeders. Off it spun into the depths. Rod #2 was opportunistic, weighted with two split shots and baited with a worm, for casting.

#2 struck first. Tug, pull, strike. Up came a respectable Drum, full of fight, good result. Then things slowed down, with the occasional Drum and not much else.

I was on the point of calling it a day, 5 Drum and 2 Perch down, when rod #1 started to play out. A Gar was on, you could see it, with a silvery Shad stuck between its teeth. At this point you're tempted to pull up hard for quick hookset. Error. The Gar will drop your hook like a poster of Seth Rich at a DNC convention.

No, don't do that. Instead, let the Gar go with the bait, open your bale, lighten the drag, do not give the suspicious, wary Gar any reason to drop the bait and your hook; let him run. He'll do that and stop, let him run again and then, after about five minutes or so of letting the line and the fish out, tighten up and set the hook.

BOOM. The Gar will thrash, dive, run and leap, heading downstream like a furious torpedo. Play him out, you've got a fight on your hands, and bring him in.

That happened twice today and it made Bass fishing, which is awesome, seem tame. For sure, it demands patience, lots of it, but when you connect with these formidable fish it's a whole different ball game. Big fun, I tell you.

Some people eat Gar, I don't. My two leviathans went back to fight again another day.

Fish on,

LSP

Behold The Great Leviathan

We went in search of Bass. Well not really, we went in search of any fish that'd get on the hook like a Trumptrain express on full loco or like anything at all, we're not fussy. And, to be sure, I wanted my kid to catch.

He did, pulling out Black Drum like a good 'un. We raced for a while, which was fun, but then lost count and finished, I think, pretty much even. I brought up the last fish, a mighty Leviathan Drum and I tell you, it put up a fight.

But here's a thought which makes me want to refigure the calculus. Another fisherman tipped up on the spillway pier and caught a good sized Catfish, a Gar and a decent Drum, all on a circle hook baited with live shad and weighted below the leader, a catfish rig. 

Now, we outfished him with barely weighted small hooks and worms but, and it's a big but, he caught fewer but larger fish, we just caught Drum. What does this mean?

Firstly, larger fish are going after live shad right now, so match the hatch. Secondly, larger fish will go after larger bait, it appeals to them. Translate all of the above into action and add a rod to the mix, baited for bigger fish, and cast off with the worm rigs for opportunistic fun.

That way you should catch more fish. A focused setup for the monsters and a catch-all for everything else.

Next stop? Go after Stripers, Drum are great but we need a change.

God bless you all,

LSP

Beat The Drum

What kind of countryman are you, so-called LSP? All you do is post creepy photos of Barbie dolls dressed up like wimmyn priests.

Hey, I get your dissatisfaction. So to put things straight I put a couple of rods in the pickup and headed for water. Intuition and experience said try the other side of the dam, and that's exactly what happened. 

It was deserted and the river flowed clear. So clear, in fact, that you could see that there weren't any fish apart from a small posse of Carp, guarding the spillway entrance to the once mighty Brazos. Therein lies another tale, but undaunted I set up on the empty grid of the pier and cast off with worms and carp bait.

Within seconds something was tugging at the juicy worm/strawberry dough bait combo. Nice, then out pulled the line  with that steady, mindless-hunger, piscine determination and I snapped the rod up to set the hook. Action! 

Only to pull the hook up through empty water. What was this, a fish without parts that didn't occupy space? No, just a Gar who sensibly dropped the enticing strawberry chummed worm.

Knowing that persistence in the face of adversity is key, I cast off again, expecting nothing but hoping for everything. And there it was, a tug, a dive and fish on in the form of a voracious little Black Drum. I hauled him in.

Next, a decent sized Bluegill; up you come, predator, and back you go to fight again another day. And this little menace was followed by another Drum. Then something big hit the line. 

BOOM. One minute you're waiting there on the pier, looking out over Texas and the fabled Brazos, and the next? Something's charged into the hook like a Trump Train on full loco. Rod double, drag out, fast and furious action. Then up came the fish.

It was a big 'un too, no foolin', and a larger  adversary hit the line at the end of the expedition. Big action from a big fish, which annoyingly snapped the 12Ib test as I brought it up, defeated. 

Then it was time to head back to the Compound, under the light of a shining moon.

Fish on,

LSP

Fish, You Fool

For a country blogger you sure don't seem to do much country stuff, so-called LSP, I thought bitterly to myself. To set the record straight, I drove over to the dam after visiting the sick.

The sun was out, the air was fresh and the water churned in the spillway, but would I catch any fish? Only one way to find out, cast off, which I did, using an earthworm as bait. No science, just throw the thing out there and let the current do its work. 

Soon enough, boom, fish on and a fighter. I reeled him in, struggling all the way, and was pleased with a decent Whitney dam Striper. Good result. 

Just as I was putting him back another fisherman arrived and started casting off with what looked liked fake minnows or shad. I was curious to see how he'd do compared to my nightcrawlers.

I Gave it Away

Another Striper later I felt vindicated, not a bad fish at all, and I gave it to my new pal who told me he'd caught a 30 incher yesterday. But here's the thing, he went on to catch a lot of fish with his fake minnows and I only caught one more. So I'm tempted to try his method and see how it goes.

And that was that, an hour or so of fishing and some fast action with it. For my next trick I'll go out and shoot some guns, if only to see if I remember how.

God bless,

LSP