Birds And Fish

It was like a scene from a Hitchcock movie, walk outside into the overcast light of a Texan spring morning and what happens, a bird screeches defiance. 

No matter, just a bird, then it swoops down on your head like a feathered Stuka in the skies of Crete. I somehow made it to the rig and back again, dive bombed by the avian terrorist.

And good thing too, because I had to load up for a trip to the dam and  fish, winged predators notwithstanding.

Now, some of you fish for relaxation and quiet reflection on the water. I do too but more so for action, which means catching, otherwise I grow bored. That in mind, I tend to put out a static line, perhaps on a bobber, and keep myself occupied with a casting rod, armed, usually, with worms.

The combo can produce great results.There's that Gar bait doing its thing on the one line and there you are, casting for opportunity. Than BAM, rod #1 goes double and so does rod #2.  Makes you leap about. Big fun and there was a bit of that at the dam spillway, fast action.

Several drum, bass, junior striper and perch later, I was back at the Compound, and so was the bird. It screeched, enraged, as I got back home, mission accomplished. Moral? Fishing's better than staring in boneheaded, slack-jawed, blank-faced consternation at your screen.

Tight lines,

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

Outrageous Fishing

Unless you're a sad Marxist determinist or some kind of insane philosopher, you'll agree that we have free will, we can make choices. Some good, some bad, some tending towards freedom and others towards that other place which ends in iron tyranny.

No, Wymmin Can't Be Priests

With this in mind, we had a choice today at the Compound. Go fishing or sit in slack-jawed amazement at the wreckage of what used to be Western culture. The team took the better path, we went fishing.

Say No To Spirit Cooking

And BANG, pretty much out of the gate we were catching. Bluegill, Catfish and Bass; mostly Bluegill and a couple of keepers too, but they all went back. Some of you might want to know the detail. Here it is.

Defeat Globalist Elites

#1 Eagle Claw Bait holder hook, cheap as you like and then some. 1 medium split shot weight, placed appx 12" from the hook, 12' test (you never know). Bait, 1 half live worm threaded onto the hook with a chunk of Walmart shrimp (Cats seem to like the combo) and another half worm threaded below the shrimp chunk.

Smash The NWO

Presentation? Chuck it in! Well, test the water and see what works. I found that casting diagonally to a cross current tended to get good bites and... sometimes not at all.

Hey, a fish is a fish

Moral of the story? Get out and fish, and know the water. If you do, you'll be able to get on the fish with what they want and start catching. Which is the optimum result, but word to the wise, a few recce patrols don't hurt.

But of course you know all this. As it is, we lost count today. Result.

Gun rights,

LSP

Gone To The Dogs

You may not have heard that Prince Rupert of the Rhine's battle dog, Boy, was believed to be a witch's familiar. Boy was shot with a silver bullet by superstitious puritan fanatics at the unfortunate battle of Marston Moor.

My dog, Blue Royalist, isn't a witch's familiar but has run the risk of being shot for stealing fried pies, steak, cheese, butter(!) and the occasional chicken. Not very SKCM but we'll let it pass, for now.

Blue isn't going fishing this afternoon, he is staying at the Compound to guard the position against intruders, malfeasants and the various flotsam and jetsam of post-Obama America.

Tight lines,

LSP

Fish On, Hillary For Jail

Rather than talk about the urgent necessity of appointing a Special Counsel to bring Hillary to justice, I'll just post about fishing. That's one of the many benefits of LSPland, you can visit the flock and fish, all at the same time.

There were all kinds of panfish in the water at my friend's slip and for a while it was pretty much a fish with every cast. Some ferocious Bluegill fighters, too, and a couple of Bass for good measure. Huge fun and I should've brought a cooler.

I left as the sun was setting over the lake and the air smelled like Texas, sage, mesquite, cedar and cooling limestone. I love that.

Hillary For Jail,

LSP

More Fishing

Yesterday's fishing was slow. Like the corrupt, lying, elite, venal, condescending, pugnacious mainstream media attempting to find proof of Trump acting as a Russian spy, not a lot was happening. A lot of trying, a lot of fishing, but no catching to speak of. 

Similar, come to think of it, to the infamous Kremlins hacking our election. No end of frenzied searching, no end likewise of not finding the elusive beasts. But that was yesterday, today was different.

Today the fish were biting like a Trump Train on full power. Boom. First off, a Megabass hit my worm  in the pool of Lake Whitney dam spillway, then took off ferociously upstream. No use, fish, you're coming in, if only to live to fight again another day.

No sooner was the gigantosaurian Bass back in the water than a Striper came in, and on and on it went. In the end my arms grew tired from reeling in the monsters, Black Drum, Stripers, Catfish, Bass and a lone Bluegill.

It made for some some brisk and satisfying action and then it was over, fish back in the Brazos and me in a truck heading back to the compound, time well spent.

Tight lines,

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

Spillway Action

I had two objectives, apart from seeing Hillary behind bars, the first being to show my Wittgensteinian pal, GWB, the sheer value and power of the weightless worm rig (WWR). The second, obviously, was to make up for Sunday's washout and catch a lot of fish.

Things got off to a slow start. AT&T came over and gave the Compound a new internet called "Uverse." The tech who installed the Internet was alright, friendly, competent, and good with dogs. I was taken aback by all these things. Well done, AT&T guy. Then we noticed that GWB's rig had a flat tire, as flat as Hillary's bogus "woman who cares for the people" act. So that had to be fixed.

In the end, a couple of hours late and in the heat of the day, we got to the dam. Sure enough, there were lots of fish, especially great hunter-killer packs of Gar, suspended in search of prey. And plenty of other fish too, just like in Seaworld. So we cast off with the worms and I have to say the action was sluggish. 

I hauled in a Black Drum and a couple of Hybrids but that was it, GWB wasn't getting anything either. "The fish hate your useless worm rig, so-called LSP," he chided, and swapped out to lures and plastics. I liked that, work out what artificials the fish like and report back. Then things changed.

Ho, Ho! A Bass. Boom.

Casting downstream off the end of the pier, I noticed a lot of Bass in the water, flashing in their quest to get upstream, into the pool and into the jaws of the waiting Gar. Twitch, tap, Boom. A Bass was on and fighting ferociously, and in he came. Good work, WWR. I alerted GWB to the spot and before long he was reeling in a Bass with every cast, all on a Texas rigged green ribbontail. Nice action.

Oh, Well Done, LSP, You Caught a Fish

I joined in with live worms and got the same result, big fun, then moved off in search of Catfish. And they were biting; I reeled in a decent sized fighter and a couple of juniors, then returned to the Bass. They were still on; then, just as though a switch had been flicked, the feeding frenzy was over. Time to go.

And that, readers, was that. I find great satisfaction in fishing, in case you wondered. Anticipation and the excitement of the strike, the fight itself, and just being outside in the country. To say nothing of reeling in the fierce predators. 

Next stop? Get back on the horse and shoot some guns.

Your Friend,

LSP

Mix it up, Fool!

Everyone's bored of "the usual spot" and stories of Bluegill rising from the depths and into the fry pan, and I don't blame you. It's been samey. So, with an eye on adventure, I went to the other side of lake Whitney dam, to the spillway, to see what was up.

I'll tell you what was up, SeaWorld. A brief recce from the top of the riprap told me there were plenty of fish in the channel, and in the pool beneath the fishing pier. Big Gar, up to 4' long, maybe larger, sizable catfish, suspended in wait of prey, schools of young Sand Bass darting about and who knows what else. Just all kinds of fish, visible through the technology of a pair of polarized Ugly Stick sunglasses. Cheap, maybe $10 at Walmart.

Excited at the prospect of catching a monster, I cast off with a light rod, 12lb test, a treble hook and a worm, weightless (WWR). Natural presentation and no resistance rules, says fishing wisdom. Well, let's see about that, I thought, cynically.

Kaboom! No sooner had the worm begun to sink than something hit it like a Rhodesian Light Infantry flying column. Thrash! Drag out! Rod bent double, and remember, it's a light rod. Then up came a Gar; they're gentle giants, for all their ferocious prehistoric teeth, and this was a young one. Back you go, my friend.

Just for kicks, I moved down the pier and cast off by the wall of the dam. There were big Catfish lurking in the depths, you could see them, and who knows, maybe they'd be interested in the weightless worm rig.

After a few minutes waiting, what cost patience?, something most certainly was. The fish tore out into mid-pool and dived ferociously for the bank, then back again. A fighter. This went on for maybe 5 minutes, which seemed like the 10 seconds of forever, until the fish was finished. I reeled him in. A Catfish, not a monster, but not far off, either. 

An hour or two later, Striper, Black Drum, and more Catfish than I could be bothered to count struck the WWR and came in. Pretty much every cast a fish, and good ones, too. If I'd had a cooler, well, there'd be a big fish fry tonight.

As it is, a couple of fat Bluegill are about to hit the pan.

Fish On,

LSP

Cast Away

Yesterday was blast, today was cast, and that's what the sporting life is all about, mixing it up, by land, sea and air. Well, lake, in this case.

After a slow start I drove out of the compound to catch fish with GWB. I wanted to show off the fun and success of the Weightless Worm Rig (WWR), so we headed to Lake Whitney by way of buying a couple of boxes of nightcrawlers. These were "imported from Canada," curiously, and I've been told that people in Alberta make a living from this.

Many Limits

Next stop, the lake itself and the limestone banks of Soldier's Bluff. At one point in time, soldiers must have looked down on the Brazos river from the rocky bluffs and before them, Indians. Not that long ago in the scheme of things, but today it was just the team, threading worms onto hooks and dropping the tasty morsels down into the depths.

Across the cove from us a solitary gentleman was sitting on a bucket with a line in the water. Was he a #BlackLivesMatter supporter? No, I doubt it, he was probably after catfish instead of a Soros grant. I watched a few rigs pull up behind him and out poured an army of young people, who clambered their way onto the opposing bluffs. They were going cliff jumping, big fun, but we were after fish, and they were biting.

Well, Well, Well

It started off in a competitive spirit, "Ha! Number 2, we're even," but that soon went by the by as fish after fish ran with the WWRs. I lost count, but GWB estimates a "good cooler full." We certainly caught that, though these Bluegills were put back to fight again another day. And not only Bluegill, I caught a decent little Crappie who was trying his luck in Sunfish territory.

Then the worms were gone and it was time to quit while the going was good. I'd say there's relaxing, innocent enjoyment in bank fishing, though it would've been nice to have some kind of boat to get out to where the Bass were were jumping, about 40 or 50 yards out.

Kindly Old LSP

Fishing wisdom: Go where the fish are and give them what they think they want; you'll catch an abundance. There's a moral in that somewhere, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

Fry 'Em Up!

This site's come under a lot of criticism lately, and why's that? Because I foolishly used frozen, store-bought chips (fries) at the last fish fry. "What kind of LSP are you?!?" commented the shocked punditry, "We expect slices of real potato, fried in lard, and nothing less." OK, I get it, point well made, so to correct the deficiency we went out to the lake and caught some fish, eight fat Bluegill and a small Black Drum.

Clean The Fish

Next step, set up two cleaning stations, yes, two, and fillet those fish like champions. Then later that evening apply beer batter and deep fry until golden brown, but don't forget the chips. Slice up some potatoes and fry them too. Use your memories of fish and chip shops in the UK as a guide, and when the tasty strips of potato look and taste right to chippie standard, take them off the heat, drain, and if necessary keep them warm in the oven while the fish does its thing.

Chips

Serve it all up with tartar sauce (easy to make) and whatever else sounds good, you be the boss of that. After all, it's your choice, not the Government's, not the tasseled loafer Beltway elite's, not the NWO globalist banksters and their Illuminati shills in the media and Hollywood, no, it's up to you. 

A Typical NWO Puppet

Did I use lard? Well, no, vegetable oil was the medium. But look, Rome wasn't built in a day.

Dogs Love a Fish Fry

In other news, the ghost of Lawrence of Arabia has been spotted, or was the "apparition" Tony Blair?

Fish On,

LSP