Shocked by accusations of domestication, I loaded a couple of rods in the truck and headed out for action. First stop, Soldiers' Bluff on Lake Whitney. Sure enough, the sun shone brightly, the waters glistened and the fish didn't bite. At least not much, some junior perch ate a couple of worms and that was it. No deal.
Next stop, a tranquil, little-used marina near Mission #2. Who knows, maybe the place is a front for a crew of international money launderers, perhaps it is, I don't know. But I do know this, there were fish, you could see them gliding about in the shallows, which is ideal for me because I don't have a boat.
So, after taking a photo of some geese and doing a recce around the banks and piers, I set up on a gangway overlooking a small shallow bay. Boom, first cast, something took the hook and off it ran, great result. Turned out to be a freshwater Drum and I kept that fish.
Then, as everything started to melt in triple digit climate change, I headed for home, fish on ice. A few moments later and there it was, on a cutting board and ready to fillet. It's not hard if your knife is sharp, and there's various ways to do it, see the internet. I prefer boneless and take the meat off the ribcage, then cut it away from the scaly skin. Others like to scale the fish and keep the skin, others again like to cut through the ribcage and keep the meat therein. Whatever, your call.
Method aside, that 13" provided two decent fillets which were pan fried in butter, olive oil and lemon. Delicious. Word to the wise -- freshwater Drum's typically robust and firm, do not overcook it. Tomorrow's plan is simple. Viz. Get up by first light and check out some topwater, which is, for me, the most awesome fishing.
I file this exciting story under "Rewilding," which isn't always a corrupt, money-making, green virtue-signaling exercise in shabby cost cutting masquerading as saving the planet. No, in this case it's getting back on the fish.
Tight Lines,
LSP
