A Cubicle Dweller Catches a Catfish

Here is the promised post about catching a catfish.

My favorite kind of early morning for fishing lacks even the hint of a breeze. The lake's surface is smooth and black, broken only by reflections of the moon and stars. The halo of my headlamp attracts swarms of tiny insects that threaten to fly up my nose and under my glasses, into my eyes. I wave them away and bait my hook quickly, so that I can turn off the light as soon as possible. Giving my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, I cast out to one of the good spots that I know by heart. The splash of my bait and bobber makes ripples that widen until they come all the way back to me. I settle into my chair to watch and wait. Sometimes the excitement starts right away, sometimes it never comes at all.

There is much to see and hear, while waiting for catfish to bite. Clouds drift across the face of the moon. Fish jump. Muskrats make silver V's as they swim. Ducks and herons squawk and splash, disturbed by unseen intruders. Owls hoot, coyotes howl, raccoons and opossums lurk in the rustling foliage. The voices of other early-rising anglers carry across the still water, making them sound eerily close. I watch for the tiny light of my bobber to twitch and bounce in the darkness.

When the moment finally comes I feel a jolt of adrenaline. I wait for the fish to drag the bobber across the surface or pull it under water. I gently lift my pole and check for the resistance that indicates a hooked catfish. If the muscular struggle of a fish is telegraphed through the taut line and up into my hands, my knees shake, and I begin reeling. Every fight with a good fish seems epic. My pole bends to the fish's strength, as I crank the reel handle with all my might. Sometimes, the line breaks, and I am left with nothing but slack.

Other times, I reel and reel and am rewarded by a large, thrashing creature right at the edge of the dock. Carefully, I slip my net under the fish and pull it out of the water, still hooked. Frequently, the fish has brought a large clump of weeds with it, which I have to clear away to get a good look at what I have caught. Most fish thrash about on the dock, thumping against the boards with their strong tails until I unhook them. I try not to hurt them and rarely sentence them to death in the ice-filled cooler. Usually, I grip the fish's lower jaw between my finger and thumb, to lift and release it. Catfish don't really have "teeth" but they have rough, spiky protrusions in their mouths. In their efforts to escape, they often take a a bit of my skin with them. I wipe my wet, bloody hands on my pants, re-bait my hook, cast out again, and wait for the next battle.

Can you understand why I cherish my sore, scabby, masticated thumb, when you think of me sitting down in my cubicle on Monday morning, after a weekend of fishing?

A fishing post...

My profile says that I am interested in fishing, so here is a fishing post. During the summer, I fish a lot. I'm not a fishing nerd so I won't be posting about what color lure to use, or depths, or water temperatures, or monofilaments vs. superbraids. Go somewhere else for that! This is just about the experience of catching a fish and what it means to me.

Last summer, my obsession was to catch channel catfish. Experience taught me that the best catfish bait was cut up bluegills. Bluegills are easy to catch at my favorite fishing hole, you just put a little piece of worm on a small hook, and fish two or three feet down, next to a dock or rock formation, around sunrise or sunset. Cutting them up is not much fun, I usually just lay them on ice in a small cooler and wait for them to die. Then I cut them into two inch squares with a pair of kitchen shears, and store the pieces in a Ziploc bag. I don't enjoy doing this but my catfish obsession has driven me to grisly lengths. I don't think that I am causing the bluegills to suffer, since hypothermia and hypoxia are relatively painless ways to die.

The best time for catfishing is when it is dark. I am not a night-owl so I prefer to fish early in the morning. It is not unusual for me to go fishing at 3:00 or 4:00 am. For me, it's not hard to wake up that early, but it does require a certain amount of motivation to gear up and go out to the dock, at that hour. I have to put on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt to keep off the mosquitos, and a headlamp so that I can see what I am doing and not fall into the lake. I carry a camp chair, my "tackle purse," (a soft side bag with fishing tackle), a big fishing pole, a net, a bag of bluegill chunks, and a mug of coffee. Before I go out I put a bobber on my fishing line, and attach a small glow stick to the bobber with a rubber band (I like to fish with a bobber to keep my baited hook out of the weeds, and it has to have a light on it so I can tell when I have a bite). Once I have tucked all of those items under my arms I'm ready to go.

So it's out into the night to pursue the fearsome channel catfish! My next fishing post will be about what it is like to catch catfish in the dark.

Here is a picture to whet your appetite: