SouthernN'Proud
Southern Discomfort
I have long subscribed to the theory that a bad day in the woods is better than a good day anywhere else. Today tested that theory a bit for me.
AE is working these funky ass shifts temporarily, 7P-7A Friday and saturday nights plus a day or two through the week. The walking tax deduction decided to sleep in this morning. It stormed like merry hell last night, but the day dawned warm and calm. As I was loathe to spend my day tiptoeing about the house so AE could get some rest, AND had little desire to watch Pimp My Sister or whatever the brat watches on the tube, I decide to take m'bad self fishing for awhile. Health was good, no chores to do, no reason not to go, right?
So I load up my tackle box and trusty fishing pole and head for the local trout hole. To my surprise, there were almost no cars at the parking area. The water is not too terribly swift or muddy. Great, says I. A quick mile jaunt downstream, and I'm in business.
As the water level was a bit higher than normal, this bade for the possibility that some shallow spots would be ideal trout pools that usually aren't worthwhile. I go about 2/3 of a mile downstream, and come to an area that always looks promising but stays too shallow. Today, however...
I stand there in the warm sunshine for about a minute, trying to decide if it's worth unpacking, when an unusual noise grabs my attention. There, on a sunny rock, not ten feet from me, is either a rattlesnake shedding or two of them mating.
Have I mention that I am absolutely mortified of snakes?
I am absolutely mortified of snakes.
I quickly decide to fish elsewhere, and deftly sidestep the slithering agent(s) of Satan.
15 minutes later, I'm at my second favorite spot on the creek. Second cast, and we have a fish. Well, almost a fish. It'll be a fish someday. Today it was bait.
I caught this fucker three times.
After an hour, I proceed downstream to my luckiest trout pool on the creek.
Another hour later, I head back upstream still fishless. I decide to cast in a few more times at the first place, and I be damned if I don't catch that damn three-inch fish again! Then I see another snake swim to the bank about twenty feet away and disappear into the rocks.
I can take a hint.
All in all, not a terrible day. Got to relax a bit, enjoy nature, get some fresh air and some exercise. Learned not to go fishing right after strong storms that wash rattlesnakes down the hill.
And deep in my heart, I can rest easy knowing that I am responsible for the best-fed sun perch in Tennessee. Fucker.
AE is working these funky ass shifts temporarily, 7P-7A Friday and saturday nights plus a day or two through the week. The walking tax deduction decided to sleep in this morning. It stormed like merry hell last night, but the day dawned warm and calm. As I was loathe to spend my day tiptoeing about the house so AE could get some rest, AND had little desire to watch Pimp My Sister or whatever the brat watches on the tube, I decide to take m'bad self fishing for awhile. Health was good, no chores to do, no reason not to go, right?
So I load up my tackle box and trusty fishing pole and head for the local trout hole. To my surprise, there were almost no cars at the parking area. The water is not too terribly swift or muddy. Great, says I. A quick mile jaunt downstream, and I'm in business.
As the water level was a bit higher than normal, this bade for the possibility that some shallow spots would be ideal trout pools that usually aren't worthwhile. I go about 2/3 of a mile downstream, and come to an area that always looks promising but stays too shallow. Today, however...
I stand there in the warm sunshine for about a minute, trying to decide if it's worth unpacking, when an unusual noise grabs my attention. There, on a sunny rock, not ten feet from me, is either a rattlesnake shedding or two of them mating.
Have I mention that I am absolutely mortified of snakes?
I am absolutely mortified of snakes.
I quickly decide to fish elsewhere, and deftly sidestep the slithering agent(s) of Satan.
15 minutes later, I'm at my second favorite spot on the creek. Second cast, and we have a fish. Well, almost a fish. It'll be a fish someday. Today it was bait.
I caught this fucker three times.
After an hour, I proceed downstream to my luckiest trout pool on the creek.
Another hour later, I head back upstream still fishless. I decide to cast in a few more times at the first place, and I be damned if I don't catch that damn three-inch fish again! Then I see another snake swim to the bank about twenty feet away and disappear into the rocks.
I can take a hint.
All in all, not a terrible day. Got to relax a bit, enjoy nature, get some fresh air and some exercise. Learned not to go fishing right after strong storms that wash rattlesnakes down the hill.
And deep in my heart, I can rest easy knowing that I am responsible for the best-fed sun perch in Tennessee. Fucker.
