It's the day of the big football opener in this university town. Hordes of people are flocking in from this state and the one next door. It's a good time to get out of town and go fishing.
Yellowwood knows nothing of football.
It basks in the sun and rolls with the wind. I do, too.
Almost halfway around the loop something takes hold of the plastic worm. The package says fish hold on 18% longer. That's perhaps beside the point when what you're looking for is a quick inhale of the bait. After an 18% longer tug of war than usual the fish lets go.
I decide to outsmart it. I tie on one of my beadhead streamers--leech, minnow, what have you--and show it to the fish. Two strips and he bites. It's a very fine bass for Yellowwood, meaning a solid 16 inches. That puts it among the top three best bass of the season.
I keep the streamer on. I have confidence in it again. But I go a long way without a touch.
Then a spunky bluegill comes out of the weeds and hammers it.
Evening settles in. The lake is quiet and so are the fish.
I feel compelled to kick over to the dam to see if the hatch has started up again for some reason.
It hasn't. There's no sign of any bass. But I find a chunky bluegill looking for a bite.
The stadium lights are glaring as I get back into town.
I don't know yet who's winning or losing. But I know this: that bass was a winner for sure.
