The other day, Mark and I were fishing on the pier. While we were in hopes to catch a few fish for our lunch, we were also trying to catch "trash" fish to use as crab bait. The crab pots were empty and, well, to catch crabs, you have to entice them to go into the traps in the first place. So any fish we caught would be put to good use. The first few bites we got were pointless nibbles. The small fish would hit and miss. Small nips were taken but not the good "run with it" type bites that result in a setting of the hook. It appeared that it was to be a slow day fishing.
Then, my line started going out at a nice pace. This looked better! I set the hook and landed a nice sized hard-head catfish. This was not good for our lunch but the crabs would at least dine well! After a bit. Mark caught a fish. I had to tease him a bit because his was a tiny gaff-topsail fish. "Is that your bait?" I ragged him. Laughing, he agreed that the tidbit of a fish could very well be used as bait. After a few photographs, the tiny tot was tossed back into the water and told to grow a bit before coming back!
It seems that the Bay is full of these tiny gaff-topsails and tiny catfish. It makes you wonder just how these little ones survive out there with no protection from adult fish. We humans are so protective of our little ones that it is hard to fathom how other creatures have no maternal/paternal feelings whatsoever for their offspring. In the wild, there are a lot of critters that would dine upon their own young if given the chance. The recognition of offspring is just not there. It is especially so with fish and reptiles. Those little ones had better move along when it comes to meeting the folks.
Greed is not a pretty thing. It causes a lot of pain in more ways than one and, in the end, will come back to bite us in the butt. This is not only true from the human aspect but also with the critters of the world. Let a predator attack something a little too large and old karma is just liable to strike back. The primal urge of greed becomes the ultimate downfall.
This morning, that primal urge was working at its best. Mark and I had settled into fishing from the pier this morning. A few mornings ago, I had caught four red drums and we were in hopes of a few more. The ones this morning were to be cleaned and shared with our sweet elderly friends. We were using little mullet for bait. These were between three and four inches in length and would offer any red fish a delightful mouthful. It was not long before I saw my line lift. Ok! I had a bite. I waited then set the hook. Well, where was my fish? Nothing was pulling back on the line. Something was sorely amiss. I wound in the line to check my bait when I realized that I did, indeed, have a fish on that hook but what a mess!
A small croaker, not much larger than my bait, had decided to take a nibble and wound up getting hooked....and tangled! Once the hook was embedded in the fish, the live mullet literally hog-tied the croaker! Now. both dangled from the line! The croaker was both hooked and ensnared. That fish should have kept to smaller morsels for his breakfast. Attacking a mullet of this size was too much for the small croaker and it became his downfall. Greed has a way of coming back to bite those who practice it. Best keep your mouth shut, Mr. Croaker! You are in a fine fix now!
We all have them. We love them to pieces but, at times, have to shake our heads at their actions. Some friends take a mile when offered an inch. It does not damper the friendship but can be a bit bewildering.
My new found critter friend, the young heron, has been coming regularly to the pier for its handouts. This morning, it was there waiting before I even came out the door. By the time I made it to the pier, the bird was doing a steady bit of pacing as if to say "Hurry up with breakfast, please!" I obliged and caught it a nice helping of menhaden. Then a bit later, the bird came back for a mid-morning snack. For being such a skinny bird, that thing can eat!
Well, along about ten o'clock, I decided that I had enough fishing for the time being but I still had a nice bucketful of menhaden. Hmmm? With the aerator going, the minnows should stay alive so I did not toss them back into the water. My scoop net was laid across the top of the bucket to provide a bit of shade and I headed to the Little Bayou House to do a bit of painting. Son was installing the new screen doors, today! Touch up painting would be required if he had to do any trimming. I had hopes to return to the pier to catch more trout after my chores were complete.
Along about four in the afternoon, I headed back to the pier to catch my friend red-handed (or red-beaked, as the case was.) The young heron had cleaned my bait bucket! Only three minnows remained in the bottom of the bucket and they were exhausted from dodging that dagger-like beak! Give that bird an inch and it will eat you out of house and home (to jumble up some idioms). That silly bird had helped itself to the contents of my bait bucket! Then, to top it all off, the bird stood begging for yet more minnows! Silly bird! Some friend you are!
On the Bayou, we fish a lot. More oft than not, we use live bait. Buying lures seems as bit senseless as we usually have a never ending supply of minnows swimming about the place. Usually. Then there are days like today where I could not catch a single mullet to use as bait. They were just not here. I did, however, catch two (yes, only two) of my favorite fish to use as bait...the menhaden. Normally, I would have settled for two baits just because there is not much use in getting in an uproar about anything especially fishing. The thing is, I let these two menhaden go free.
As a rule, to use menhaden as bait, you prefer the fish to be about three inches in length. Any smaller and most fish will pass them by with nary a look. Much larger and the fish find it difficult to swallow. The two caught today were...ummm...a tad large. They were each almost a foot long! In fact, I pretty much could have cleaned and fried these two! Not that I would have simply because menhaden are considered bait and not food. In fact, even though the fish would not kill you, they are not a desirable food fish. If not eaten immediately, the flesh gets mushy and the oils rancid. Menhaden tend to decay rather quickly and I am not fond of eating rotten, slushy fish. This is the reason Pop always called the extra large menhaden "Slops". Leave them dead long in the bottom of your boat and you will see why this descriptive name is fitting. They get rather putrid.
These menhaden were two of a bunch that were visiting the area this afternoon. As I stood on the pier, I could seen hundreds of the oversized "minnows" swimming below me. It has been a weird fishing week as some days, nary a fish can be found then the next there are dozens. Perhaps this latest bit of "no good fishing days" is a way to keep me indoors and make me get that decorating finished for Christmas. Yep, I would rather be fishing!
One of the most heard lies....err...statements muttered by a fisherman is "The big one got away!" Sure, sure...we know...Wink! Wink! But I have proof! I have definite proof that a big one did get off my hook!
This all started with Mark and me taking a hike about the hillside. We had no intentions of going fishing but once we made it to the pier, that was all that was on our minds. With Mark having a sore knee, I threw the net just out of curiosity. We thought perhaps we might catch a few mullet. Well, I did catch a mullet but I also caught a few menhaden. Those are the little fish that we use for bait. That did it! The call to fish was just too great. We hurried to get our poles and scoop net. The fish were waiting! All of the hooks were baited and tossed out in hopes of catching "the big one". First, a nibble. My line wound up under the pier and I missed the fish. Hmmm? That was not good. I recast that pole and noticed a slight wiggle on my other line. Alrighty, then! I picked up the pole and eased back just a bit and WHAM! Splashing and pulling began on the other end! I had him! After a brief battle, Mark scooped up my redfish! We stood and admired the fish for a few moments before I noticed my other line easing out! FISH!!! I snagged the next red and had another brief fight with this one. It tugged a bit harder and splashed a lot more. When Mark scooped this one, he was more excited than with the last one. "This one is a lot bigger!" Yep, when I looked, it was definitely a lot bigger! Well, we had supper lined up for us!
Then my other line gave a wiggle. "I've got another!", I said happily! I reached for the pole and gave a tug! Water started splashing and my line started zinging out from the reel! Ok, so this one was a fighter! Now we were talking fishing! I reeled...the fish pulled. I reeled...the fish pulled. Suddenly, whap! The line went limp. Grrr! I had missed my fish! I wound in the line. I still had bait but, oh, my goodness!...it was torn to shreds! That, my friends, was a sign that the big one did, indeed, get away! So, even though it was a grand surprise to catch a fine mess of fish, the big one got away...really...I have proof!
