A Good Finish

The next trip to Yellowwood after catching that nice bass on a cicada imitation. This time the fishing was slow, and the cicada fly got some attention from bluegills while bass eschewed it. For some reason.

I crossed over to the west side and switched to a muddler variation and got into some scraps over it with some of those heavy gills that only come out after the sun goes down. Some of these are bigger pound for pound than many of the bass I've caught here. It made for a good finish.

No Perch

Back in May, another trip to Yellowwood. At the boat ramp two fishermen keeping their eyes on big bobbers. They're interested in my float tube; seems tubes like this are uncommon here. The older one likes to talk. Says he once pulled a 19 inch perch out of this lake. Perch? I kick out and make my circuit of the shoreline. The thunderheads stay far away. The old poppers are falling apart, but the fish like them anyway. Small bass, chunky bluegills--but no perch.

Scale, No. 25

Find it HERE.

Note to Self: More Poppers

Back before the cicadas came I went to Yellowwood on a fine warm afternoon. It was supposed to be clear for the next twelve hours. I elected to leave my rain jacket in the truck. No sooner was I a long way from the truck than storm clouds began building. I kicked all the way back and got the jacket.

No sooner had I kicked out into open water than the rain came. A boat nearby gave me something to think about. Brilliant. I could easily pack an umbrella along for just such an occasion.

After it cleared off the fish seemed to be peckish. They took a number of different streamers.

At one point I decided to dig deep in my tackle boxes. I found two old poppers--I mean old--left over from when I last lived in Indiana. What the heck--I tied one on.

That was fun. Note to self: more poppers.

I crossed to the west shoreline and tied on a big bushy deer hair fly--originally a mouse pattern but now a bass bug. My intention was to fish something too big for bluegill and just right for hefty bass.

No good. The bluegill still managed to fit the fly in their mouths.

So when life gives you bluegill you fish out a lovely evening catching bluegill.

"the great escape" by Charles Bukowski

listen, he said, you ever seen a bunch of crabs in a

bucket?

no, I told him.

well, what happens is that now and then one crab

will climb up on top of the others

and begin to climb toward the top of the bucket,

then, just as he’s about to escape

another crab grabs him and pulls him back

down.

really? I asked.

really, he said, and this job is just like that, none

of the others want anybody to get out of

here. that’s just the way it is

in the postal service!

I believe you, I said.

just then the supervisor walked up and said,

you fellows were talking.

there is no talking allowed on this

job.

I had been there for eleven and one-half

years.

I got up off my stool and climbed right up the

supervisor

and then I reached up and pulled myself right

out of there.

it was so easy it was unbelievable.

but none of the others followed me.

and after that, whenever I had crab legs

I thought about that place.

I must have thought about that place

maybe 5 or 6 times

before I switched to lobster.

"the great escape" by Charles Bukowski from Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way.

© Ecco Press, 2004.