Look At That Striper!

 

Don't get me wrong, catching perch is fun but catching striper is awesome. There we were after Mass, pitting wits and worms against junior bluegill when the water erupted about 30 yards off the bank. I figured it was sand bass blitzing on minnows and tied on a topwater lure.

Out it went, wait, then a zig-zag retrieve back to shore. About two thirds of the way back the water surged under the lure and a fish hit it like a steam train, taking the silvery, rattling, plastic prey down into the depths. Behold rod double action as the fish dived and tried to run, this was surely more than a regular sandy or hybrid. And sure enough it was, out came a striper.

I love topwater fishing. There's something about the explosive impact of the fish striking the lure, amped up, full of ferocious, predatory drive; it's going to get the prey before its competition. Then the fight's on. And with that, have a blessed Feast of the Transfiguration.

Tight lines,

LSP

Systemic Rural Racism

 

One of the many problems country people face is racism, systemic racism, that ingrained, institutional, just the way things are racism which so afflicts entities of color in America's rural landscape. 

Parks, gardens, sky, fields, starlit night sky? All crushingly racist along with their iniquitous purveyors. That's the theory, and I drove out to Uncle Gus' Marina to test it out.

Sure enough, there was a banner of good ole Nazi "Uncle Gus" welcoming visitors and guests. And guess what? Uncle so-called "Gus" was white and holding a captive Bass of Color (BOC). Here, let's zoom in.

Unsurprised but still shocked, I drove carefully down to the apartheid marina and guiltily cast my line in the waters of the oppressed deep. No luck, anarcho-marxist cardres had trained these fish to avoid the hooks, lures and bait (worms) of their white colonialist oppressors.

Huh. I gave up the fight, vowing to return, "Watch out, you piscine Reds, I'll be back, with a vengeance," and headed over to the dam spillway.

Where it was raining, this being Biden's America, but undaunted, line out. No luck. Rinse, repeat at various angles. And then? That chomp, tug that every angler loves to feel. Pull up! Hookset! and there it is, a fish at the end of your line, diving, thrashing and doing its Bolshevikk best to escape, but it doesn't. 

You reel zhir in, get the photo op, and release the unrepentant Menshivik back into the depths. Well done, fish, you live again to fight another day. Then, because the climate changed owing to Texas not paying enough tax, it started to rain and I headed for home. And now? Curry, Thai Texan style.

OK, a good morning out in the good clean air of Texas, well done. But back to the point. Was the countryside's endemic racism made better or worse by this piscatorial endeavor?

As always, you be the judge,

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

Monster Bass Bonanza

Like a gift from heaven it began to rain, rippling the still surface of the small lake and out whirred lines across the water. Tranquil, but not for long.

His First Big Bass

The first Bass plowed into my hook like a sledgehammer coming down on a Clinton Blackberry. Kaboom, and before you could say Russian collusion the fight was on, and what a fight but finally, after about 5 minutes, up came a Bass, a monster Hybrid.

Monster

This went on for two days, morning, noon and evening, monster Bass after monster Bass until I lost count. Outrageous, unreal, ridiculous fishing, a make-your-arms-ache Bass bonanza of epic proportions. Pretty much a huge fish with every cast, and here's the thing.

Weirdly Large Hybrid

I had some luck with green plastic worms on Texas rigs, very little with topwater lures and no luck at all with crankbaits. These didn't produce; similar, when you think about it, to the Deep State's various attempts to overthrow the President. P**gate, Russian spy, Stormy the Prostitute and on, none of them worked, dammit.

Scientific Rig

No, but live worms on a #1 baitholder did, these enormous Bass couldn't get enough of them. They loved them like a millionaire socialist loves fauxtrage, and perhaps this confounds conventional wisdom, which advises big hooks and big bait for big fish. 

Whatever the case, the small hook, live worm rig fished up a storm of surging, diving, running, thrashing Bass. Just a whole lot of fun and there's a message in that.

Get out and fish,

LSP

Cool For Cats

No, not the supermegastar pop band fronted up by Jools Holland, but the fish, catfish. At least that was the hope as I drove to a top secret Texan location.

At first it was pretty slow sledding, with a couple of halfhearted nibbles on my go to worm and not much else at all. Then a boat pulled up, "We've been at it for hours, nothing!" 

I shrugged and cast off again, wondering if the expedition would be a bust. So why not change up the bait? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Several pieces of shrimp added to the worm and a slow retrieve later, something got fierce on the hook and a fight was on. Then up came a catfish.

And another, and another, and another in a kind of we-love-the-shrimp-worm-combo feeding frenzy. Great result and a fast 45 minutes or so of good action; out went the line, in came the fish, 6 in the end. 

After that things started to quiet down but I wasn't complaining, the sport had been good and it was time to head for home.

Next time I'll bring a cooler and keep a few. Fry those cats up.

Tight lines,

LSP

The Waters Rage and Foam

I went down to the Lake Aquila spillway to get some angling action in, and sure enough, the waters raged and foamed. But where was that Leviathan?

I went downstream to find him and set up on the bank; it was neat to cast into the swift current, though I didn't get any bites. Fish were jumping, though, in mid-stream and that was tantalizing. Maybe with the right surface bait I'd have caught something; or not, the water was moving fast.

Then, like a lazy submarine, a Gar moved into the bank and I gently lowered a hook-full of worm into the water. Perhaps this was the Leviathan, and sure enough, the Gar took the bait.

But Gar are curious creatures, they like to test the bait before they bite and that's what this one did. I played along and gave the fish plenty of line, and I thought I had him.

The strangely prehistoric creature surfaced and snapped angrily at the worm. Yes! He's on! I thought, and made to set the hook. Too soon. The fish sensed something wasn't right and dropped the bait, and that was that. A smaller hook would've done the trick, I think, but as with everything else, hindsight's 20/20.

A Gar

Still, I'm not complaining. It was good to get out and I enjoyed talking with the fishermen. One of them had brought a bow, to shoot the Gar. Maybe I should get one. 

Fish on,

LSP