If there's one thing about fishermen hat is fishier than the
fish they catch, it's the stories they tell. Some are on-a-Bible
sworn to be true. Others are told with a "Fin-in-check" air and a
few are downright lies. Let me give you a "for instance."
Take the story about the one-armed fisherman who was noted for
catching big fish despite his handicap. When asked what the
biggest fish he ever caught was, he would roll his eyes, stretch
his arm as far as it could reach, then grin and leave the rest to
the asker's imagination.
And this is fairly typical of many fishermen. They delight in
telling tall tales to anyone who will listen. The fish grow in
size and the stories in length as passing years dim both facts and
memories. So impressive are some of these fishing fablers, it's
sometimes difficult to distinguish fact from fiction.
For instance, when a typical fisherman catches the biggest
fish of his lifetime, he remembers the smallest details and will
pour them out to anyone within earshot. This is fact.
Then over the years, as the story is retold, details are
embellished to shore up a fading memory. The teller doesn't look
upon this as lying but more as dramatizing the truth. Thus enters
fiction.
And once the storytelling gets underway, it takes on an aspect
similar to fishing itself. Some of these stories are keepers, some
not. Over many years you Uncle Homer has latched onto a number of
"keepers" which I believe to be part of the charm of the grand
sport of fishing. Let me share some with you.
First off, there's the tale about the old fisherman with a
long beard, who delighted in sneaking into forbidden fishing places
because the biggest fish are thought to be there. He rode a
bicycle he could lift over fences and places unavailable by
motorcycle or car.
One day he was fishing at his favorite remote lake on a cattle
farm. Just as he was sneaking out with a creel full of bluegills,
a giant Brahma bull spotted him pedaling his bike and began chasing
him.
A young city dweller was cruising down a nearby dirt road with
the top down on his convertible when he heard the old man's cry for
help. The old man was pedaling furiously with the big bull
snorting and bounding right behind him. The old fellow ran smack-dab into the rail fence, the bike stopping suddenly and throwing
the old man sprawling into the dust near the road.
The young man helped the oldster to his feet, dusted him off,
picked up all the scattered bluegills and fishing tackle, then
carefully pulled the bicycle under the rail fence while the bull
stomped it, snorted, roared and raged.
As he straightened the old man's clothing, the young fellow
said, "Tell you what, that big, mean, ol' bull almost got you,
didn't he?"
"Yep," grinned the old fisherman, "he almost gits me every
time I fish here!"
A Bunch of fishing buddies arrived for their annual get-together on a lake near a small town many years ago. One was a
regular church attender, so he took time out Sunday morning to
catch services at the nearest church. On his way there he was
obsessed with a sudden desire.
He sought out the pastor and said, "Sir, you don't know me,
but I would like to really put myself in the morning's service by
ringing the bell... my way to call your flock to church."
"Be my guest, my son," smiled the pastor. "You be the bell
ringer this morning."
So the angler climbed the belfry, eased himself inside the
huge bell, and proceeded to bong the bell with his head, really
putting himself into it. The third "bong" knocked him unconscious
and he fell into the areaway, deader than a filleted mackerel.
A crowd gathered, looked at him as the pastor walked up, and
someone asked, "Who is this man?" And the pastor replied, "Well I
don't know his name but his face rings a bell!"
Hold on, now there's more.
One week later another young man approached the pastor and
said: "Sir, you remember the young man who gave his all to ring
the bell last Sunday? Well, you'll probably recognize me as his
twin brother. And I'd like to carry on his wish, in his memory, if
you'll permit me. I'd like to summon your congregation to church
this Sunday."
And the pastor replied: "If you insist, my son. Go right
ahead."
The fisherman's twin brother climbed into the belfry, inside
the big bell, and began bonging the bell with his head too. The
third bond did it; he fell into the areaway lifeless, and the
church folks gathered around with the pastor. One asked,
"Preacher, who is this man?"
And the pastor replied, "Well, I don't know his name, but he's
a dead ringer for the man who was here last Sunday!"
Another fisherman, who attained much stature in a small
country town because he was the fastest boat rower around, went on
to Olympic fame as a world-class sculler. He returned to his
hometown, settled down, but still like to put on a show for
observers.
When he rowed his small boat form one fishing spot to another
on the river, he rowed so fast that people would stop and gape in
amazement.
One day as he was rowing upstream, he happened to notice a
ladies' group holding a picnic just ahead, so he smiled and thought
he'd give them something to talk about. He put on a burst of speed
and went past them so fast he literally churned the water to a
froth with his oars.
He got so carried away he forgot about the sharp bend in the
river just ahead. He was going so fast he plowed a furrow a
quarter mile long through a cornfield before the boat came to a
halt.
Undaunted, he reached over picked up his fishing rod and began
casting his lure into the field. One of the ladies, with a twinkle
in her eye, hollered to him: "Have you ever caught anything out
there?"
And the fisherman replied, "Nope, you're the first one!"
Catfish Fishermen are a peculiar lot and usually go to two
extremes... either to catch the most catfish or the biggest one
around. So it was with two catfish devotees way up in Maine.
One was a native Yankee sitting on a dock, just baiting his
hook with red worms for bullhead catfish. Now bullheads don't run
very large, about a pound average, but they are very tasty eating.
Just as began fishing, a Texan in a big 10-gallon hat took off in
a roar of his outboard, heading for the middle of the lake in
search of big catfish.
He tipped his sombrero and grinned as he voomed past, never
slowing until he was just a spot in the middle of the lake. He
pulled a huge hook from his rucksack, covered it with an
unbelievable chunk of smelly meat and lowered it to the bottom.
He watched a motionless bobber for about two hours and was
just about to call it a day when the bobber disappeared in a flash.
The Texan set the hook hard, fought long, and finally boated a 60-pound blue catfish. He put away his tackle and headed for the
dock.
When he arrived, the Yankee had a dozen, pound-size bullheads
flopping on the dock. The boisterous Texan laid his giant catfish
alongside the Yankee's smallish stringer of bullheads and declared
loudly, "Well, podnuh, whaddaya think of that there catfish?"
The Yankee cocked an eyebrow and replied, "Eyah, just caught
the one, eh?"
Speaking of Texan fisherman, they tell a tale about one who
caught a 15-pound bluegill. If you remind them the world record is
under five pounds, then ask them what he caught it on, they'll
drawl, "Well, I hear he was using a two-pound cricket!"
One cold winter night, two fishing buddies were making plans
to resume their fishing forays when spring came. One said, with a
faraway look in his eyes, "This is the spring we're going to get
that humongous bass below the dam, which has broken everybody's
line, including that 100-pound-test you tried on him last year."
He went on: "I got me a plan. Listen. I found some 1,000-pound-test parachute cord at the surplus store. Don't reckon he
can bust that. And I'm having the blacksmith forge me a tempered
treble hook about as big as your head. That should hold about a
ten-pound carp we'll use for bait. Now, all we have to do is
figure out how to set the hook and yank him out of that big hole."
In spring, they put their plan into effect on a bright,
moonlit night. They baited the hook with the big carp and got into
a small boat to take the carp out into the deepest water. The
other end of the parachute cord was tied to the rear axle of a
four-wheel-drive Jeep utility vehicle. The boater returned and sat
watching the cord with a flashlight while his buddy sat behind the
wheel with the motor idling.
After about an hour, the line-watching said: "Hey, he's
playing with it, probably munching on that carp. When he takes off
for the dam I'll let you know, and I you to really give that Jeep
all it's got to set that hook!"
Suddenly the cord coils began paying out steadily and he
shouted, "There he goes... now set the hook!" His buddy let out
the clutch, engine roaring, tires churning, and the Jeep took off
up the hill. Suddenly that parachute cord drew taut and hummed
like a giant bull fiddle string, with the gigantic bass pulling in
one direction and the Jeep straining wide open in the other.
Well, something just had to give. And it did as the Jeep
suddenly took off up the hill. Now as the tale goes, they didn't
land that gargantuan bass, but they did bring back 60 pounds of its
lower jaw!
About 10 years ago, Uncle Homer was researching an article on
pike fishing in Ireland. My ghillie, or guide, was a man who
obviously loved hi profession. Freddie McBrien was born to fish.
After we grew to know each other, I asked: "Freddie, you said
you've been guiding for 40 years. You've never tried any other
occupation?"
And Freddie replied with a tilt of his head: "Well now.
There was that time about 20 years ago when I hurt me back pulling
a boat into a lake. The doctor told me I could no longer pull
boats in and out of lakes. So I spent a miserable month doing
handy work. Then, I got to thinkin'.
"The doctor said I could no longer pull boats in and out of
lakes. So, I started pushing boats in and out of lakes and have
been guidin' ever since!"
Well, fishing buddies, now that we've shared some of fishing's
tall tales, you know that I meant when I said it's difficult to
tell fact from fiction.
When a whopper grabs an angler's lure, leaps high, fights
ferociously and finally breaks free, leaving the fisherman with
nothing to show... well, it's like that enormous salmon I fought
for nearly two hours before it broke my rod and tore loose in heavy
rapids.
Someday when we meet, ask me about it, but be sure you've got
about two hours to listen. Meantime one of the foregoing stories
actually is true. Can you guess which one?