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.
"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
