Every Cast Is Like Christmas Morning
by Scott Wiseman
Every cast is like Christmas morning. No, the big guy in the red suit is not going to show up at your doorstep every morning with presents, but if you are a fisherman, every cast matches the anticipation of a kid on Christmas morning. Think about it, you can have all the electronics in the world on your boat to tell you where the fish are, but until you hook into and land a fish, you truly never know what you might be hooking in to.
I recently had the pleasure of fishing the Ohio River with my buddy Joe, who is without a doubt the best carp fisherman I have ever met. Before you say “Ugh..carp?”, anyone that has ever caught a carp knows that they are one of the hardest fighting fish that exists in freshwater. And no, he doesn’t eat them. He throws every one of them back. Joe and I don’t get to fish as much together as we used to (we grew up together and used to fish every day for weeks on end), but Joe made the analogy to me of every cast being Christmas morning. “I want Santa Claus to bring me a 40lb carp!” Joe said with a serious look on his face. What amazed me was the fact that Joe was using state of the art equipment, complete with high-dollar baitrunner reels and electronic bite alarms, but still sat there watching his lines, much like a kid on Christmas morning who looks at his presents and tries to figure out exactly what each present contains. After chumming the water thoroughly with a corn/oatmeal/Wheaties mixture, Joe did a quick plumb of water that we were fishing (plumbing is casting out a sinker and seeing how long it takes to sink to the bottom thereby determining the depth of the water), and after making a mental picture in his mind of the bottom contour and structure, he precisely threw 3 different baits into three different places that he thought might hold fish. As a matter of fact, his casts were so precise to the same area each time, that he probably could have casted into a one foot diameter hoop and hit dead center every time. “I think the fish will be in a little bit deeper water right now” Joe said. “These bluebird skies and light winds will keep them deeper until the spawn gets here next month”. Hours passed without a bite. “I knew that I should have brought the cornmeal ball” he said, adding “I have had a lot of success on this river using cornmeal mixed with chopped up cloves of garlic and sometimes flavored with strawberry”. Chopped up cloves of garlic and strawberry? What the? “Carp are very scent-oriented” Joe explained. As we sat there passing the time, catching up on our families and stories about work and past fishing trips, we saw several nice carp and buffalo rolling on top of the murky, fast-moving water, but Joe never got the first bite. Today would be the day before Christmas for him, and he would have to wait until the next time to see what present he was getting.
About a week later, my 18 year old son Thomas called me and asked me if I would like to go hit some of the local creeks in search of some smallmouth bass. “Sure” I said. “You and I haven’t fished together in like five months. What’s up with that?”. “I know, I’ve just been busy” Thomas said. Busy? Busy with chasing 18 year old girls around maybe..haha. Ok, ok, I will give the kid a break. He goes to school full-time and makes excellent grades, works almost full-time at a local fast food restaurant, and still manages to get a few hours (ok..quite a few hours) a week in playing video games and hanging out with friends at IHOP. We hit the water early Saturday morning. The weather was excellent with an overcast sky and no wind. Armed with tube jigs, Bitsy Bugs, and nightcrawlers (just in case), we made our way to a pool in the creek where Thomas and I have both caught 4lb+ smallies. Thomas threw next to a log that had appeared sometime over the winter in one of the many floods that the creek had endured and immediately I saw him setting the hook. “Got one!” he said. “Not too big, but she is fighting me.” “What is it?” I asked. “Fighting like a smallmouth” Thomas replied. After a short fight, I saw a flash of white and silver in the water. “Not a smallie” I said. “Maybe it’s a steelhead” I joked. Thomas glared at me for a second or two. (Note: There are no steelheads or any other type of trout or salmon in central Indiana creeks). When it got within a few feet of the bank, I realized that he had caught a really big creek chub. Not just any typical creek chub, but a creek chub that went about 14” and had horns on its head. “What kind of fish is that dad?” Thomas asked. “Well Thomas, that there is a Great Horned Sapsucker Creek Chub you got there. Very rare in these parts” I said amusingly. He glared at me again for a second and then said “Ok. What kind of fish is it really?” “It’s a common creek chub Thomas” I said. “Just like the ones that we buy at the bait and tackle store for flathead fishing”. Thomas, still amazed at this fish, said “Yeah, but we never get them THIS big!”. “No kiddo, we don’t” I thought to myself. But I sure would have liked to keep THAT one alive for a few months for when the flatheads started stirring in the depths of the Wabash River. “You know dad” Thomas said “Fishing IS a lot like Christmas morning. The presents are the waters that we fish and the fish that we catch, but you still don’t know what you are going to reel in.” He continued on “Here we are geared up for smallmouth and we catch a creek chub! We have not caught a creek chub EVER out of this creek”. “Yep. I know” I said. “Just goes to show you Thomas that no matter what you fish for, what type of lures or bait you are using, or what bodies of water you are fishing, you just never know what is going to be on the other end of your line when you set that hook”. Yes my friends, every cast is indeed like Christmas morning.