As usually happens, I came back from my annual Canadian fishing trip with the fishing bug. Last Saturday Dennis, Buzz, and I went fishing on the Upper Mississippi in Dennis’ boat. The sky was blue, the fishing was lousy, and the day was a good reminder that retired guys shouldn’t get on the river Saturdays or Sundays. Weekdays are relatively quiet, an occasional barge, but not many recreational boats. On weekends the river transforms into a pleasure craft superhighway. Even the backwaters, which we usually have to ourselves, had other boats and jet skis.
It was inaccurate for me to say that the fishing was lousy. I should have said that the fishing was unusual. For the entire day, we did not catch a single panfish. No bluegills, no perch, no crappies. Instead we caught bigger fish – mostly bass, but also a couple of walleyes and northerns.
Dennis caught the first fish. It was a nineteen-inch smallmouth bass. When he was about to put the fish on a stringer, I said, “You should let it go. A big fish like that is a good breeder.” To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether this general rule about fish reproduction applies specifically to bass, but I’ve long been in the habit of releasing big fish and keeping slightly smaller ones. In fish jargon, the medium-sized fish of each species are sometimes described as “good eaters.”
Dennis grudgingly agreed, but had me take a photo of him and his fish before releasing it. He then texted the photo to his wife, who immediately replied, “Good job. Fish for dinner.”
Dennis replied, “Oops, I don’t have the fish. Steve made me let it go.”
Five minutes later, Buzz asked, “Dennis, was that the biggest bass you’ve ever caught in your life?”
Dennis replied, “Buzz, I think that it was. That might’ve been the biggest bass I have ever caught in my life, and Steve made me let it go.”
“Yeah,” said Buzz. “Steve also lost the biggest northern I’ve ever caught in my life. He put it on a stringer and then didn’t tie the stringer to the boat.”
“I tied it,” I said, “but the knot came out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buzz said. “I think that the same stringer also had the biggest bass in my life. Steve released both of them while they were attached to each other, so I assume they died a slow, agonizing death. I should have warned you. Now whenever I catch a big fish, I don’t let Steve near it.”
“I am sensing a pattern here,” Dennis said. “Do you remember that time we fished Lytle’s Landing from our kayaks?”
“I do,” said Buzz. “Didn’t Steve make you release that big northern because it was twenty-five and three quarters inches long and not the legal twenty-six inches?”
“He did,” said Dennis. “What he didn’t do was mention that I was supposed to squeeze the tail fin of a fish to get an exact measurement, and that squeezing the tail adds an inch to the total length. There is something unattractive about that man when it comes to fishing.”
Readers of my blog need to endure this particular fish story only once. I, on the other hand, will be listening to it being told and retold by Dennis and Buzz for months and years to come.
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