Page 65 - barefoot-in-the-sand-remembering-the-waning-days-of-the-hopewell-community-(1998)-bruce-c-gragg

Barefoot In The Sand: Remembering the Waning Days of the Hopewell Community (1998) Bruce C. Gragg 61/123

I CATCH THE BIG ONE

I can vividly remember the first Mud Fish I caught, we were fishing
around an area we called Pendleton Lake. By river it was almost a
mile from Wheeler Ferry, straight through it was less than a half
mile. It was not really a lake but an area of back water of the
river, with a lot of cypress stumps. The river was up and a creek
that ran into the river at that time was quite full. We were for the
most part fishing in this creek. At a neighbor’s suggestion I baited
the hook with a salt pork rind cut to look like a pair of frog legs
on my cypress pole and dropped into the water, jiggling it a bit.
Soon I got a "big bite” I knew it was something big when I jerked the
pole to set the hook, I pulled the fish right over my head and it hit
the ground some 20 feet in back of me. Boy, was I excited! ! ! I was
so excited I walked all the way home carrying my fish, by the road
this was about 2 miles. There was a road through the woods, that was
a short cut, I didn't take it. I could have taken the short cut for
hundred yards a so, turned, gone through the field for a real short
cut home, no I didn't want to do that, I was too excited. I felt
safer so I followed the road around by Mrs. Mills’ house. When I got
to the point where the short cut came onto the main road everyone
else was there in the wagon waiting on me. This road came out about a
hundred yards from the corner of our big field near where only a year
or so earlier we had the encounter with the skunks. At this
particular time that was an item of ancient history and never crossed
my mind.

The cypress poles we used, were a bit heavy to hold compared to a
bamboo pole but they wouldn’t break as easily. Papa would go into one
of the nearby ponds and find young saplings that were not too big,
but straight, cut them take them home and remove the bark lay them on
some lumber under the big equipment shelter to dry. He would keep
turning them as they dried to help keep them straight. When dried, we
would add the fishing line and hook, sinker and cork. Actually the
line was cord, it was heavy enough to catch the big ones. This same
kind of cord was used as a set line, except it wasn't on a pole. Just
a long length was rigged as if it were on a pole, but with no cork as
a float, however it was tied to a tree or stump and baited and cast
toward the middle of the river for either mud fish or rock bass,
(locally we called them "War Mouth Perch”), when the line began to
jerk, we had something. Papa always wanted the noise to be kept to an
absolute minimum, no loud talking or running up and down the river
bank. He was convinced the fish would hear it and not come around.
I've seen others that didn't make any effort to keep it quite, they
too would catch fish. To each his own idea of noise level has proven
true. It really makes no difference whether you keep quiet or not,
use a bamboo pole or

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