From a letter to his brother, Bill
|Catching a fish in the air||
I have nothing but pleasant memories of the fishing trips with Daddy on Spring Creek. You and I made a few float trips down the creek, too.
I remember one from the bridge in town to Rawls Water, where we found lots of people swimming when we arrived.
On one particular trip with me sitting on the back seat of that aluminum boat of Daddy's, you and Hutto were on the front seat and we motored up from Lane's Bridge, I think.
You and Hutto each caught one, and I caught six, swinging my rod around the back of the boat to cast my red-skirted Shimmy Wiggler to the right bank. Assorted "trout," as Daddy called bass, and jackfish.
I remember the thrill of seeing one following the lure, and that we learned to pull it faster to induce as strike, not slow it down.
I have a vague memory one time of watching a jackfish follow and disappear as the lure came to the boat and I lifted it out of the water. Then, while holding the rod there in disappointment, the jackfish jumped up and grabbed the Shimmy Wiggler in the air, and I pulled him in.
Do you remember that?
|The bass that was hooked on one rig and landed on another||
I know you remember the time you and I and Daddy were casting on the creek around the Sealy Springs area, and you were in the front and it started to rain.
We put on raincoats and you kept right on casting. You hooked a very nice bass, who promptly pulled the lure down to some roots and got it hung.
We paddled over to unsnag your lure and when we peered down into that clear creekwater, our hats shielding the raindrops from the surface, the bass was still trying to shake himself loose from your lure, about three feet down.
You couldn't quite reach him, and there was danger of a hook in your hand, and you said, "If we only had a gaff"
I said, "How about this?" and offered my rod with a twelve-hook Slim Jim on the line.
You took my rod and jammed the Slim Jim in the bass's mouth and gave it a jerk to hook him.
He came loose from your lure and you pulled him in.
That was perhaps the only time in history that a fish was hooked on one rig and landed on another!
I've told that story many times over the years, and it has always been received with polite or not-so-polite skepticism.
I'm sure you've told it, too, and we have both wished the other were there to back it up.
And I can remember hearing Daddy tell it with relish, pride and delight.
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