Hello Fellas

[elnutsmalljaws]

Somebody tell me a fish story, either true or lie your ass off I don't care.

[Tyme2fish]

Good to see you posting, I was worried about you.

Story:

I launched my 35' Nitroskeeterranger with the four 650HP MercJohnsons from the New Albany ramp. Blew all the fish clean down to Evansville.

[GeoFisher]

Somebody tell me a fish story, either true or lie your ass off I don't care.

Well Hells Bells ole buddy.......

Nice to see you here.

[sweetwater]

Somebody tell me a fish story, either true or lie your ass off I don't care.

One fine day an old man was fishing and fishing on his favorite lake and catching nary a thing. Finally, he gave up and walked back along the shore to his fishing shack. When he got close to the front door, he saw it was open. Being of a suspicious nature, he walked to the door quietly and looked inside. There was a big black bear. It was just pulling the cork out of his molasses jug with its teeth. The molasses spilled all over the floor and the bear rubbed his paw in it, smearing it all over.
Well, the old man was not the timid sort. He went to the back of the shack, put his head in the window and gave a loud yell. The bear jumped and ran out the door. It was running strangely. The old man saw that the bear was holding up the foot covered with molasses so it wouldn't get dirty.
The bear ran to the lake shore. Standing on its hind legs, it held up the paw full of molasses. Soon all the flies and bugs and mosquitoes were swarming all over the sticky sweet paw. Then the bear waded into the water with his sticky paw full of bugs. It held the paw out over the water. Suddenly, a big trout came jumping out of the water trying to get to the flies. The bear gave it a swat and it flew to the shore and flopped there. Then another fish jumped into the air after the flies, followed swiftly by another. Every time a fish jumped after his paw, the bear cuffed it ashore. Soon it had a large pile.
Finally, the bear decided he had enough fish and waded to shore. The bear had caught a mess of fish any fisherman would envy. The old man had caught nothing. He watched that bear eat half a dozen trout, his stomach rumbling. All he had for dinner was some bread and what was left of the molasses. Finally the bear paused in his eating, and looked over to the bushes where the old man was hidden. The bear stood up and laid the remaining fish in a row. Then it walked away up the shore. It kept looking back at the bushes where the old man stood.
The old man crept out of the bushes and down to the shore. Sure enough, the bear had left six large trout for him. He looked over at the bear. It was standing at the edge of the wood watching. "Thanks a lot," the old man called to the bear. The bear waved the now-clean paw at the old man and disappeared into the thicket. "Well," said the old man, "That's the first time a bear has ever paid me for my molasses."

[know1]

Glad to see you.

I don't have any fish stories. I've barely fished the last few years.

[Wormin]

Bobber down!!!!

[sweetwater]

A monastery is in financial trouble, so it goes into the fish-and-chips business to raise money. One night a customer knocks on its door. A monk answers. The customer asks, “Are you the fish friar?”

“No,” he replies. “I’m the chip monk.”

[Bonefish]

Patty, “The Bass Angel”
by
Roy (Bud Bonefish) L. Nave


It was July 10th, 2008 on the Dix River below Dix Dam where in the cool of the evening you may see deer, beaver, otter, the great blue heron, and the occasional muskrat. It is where my brother-in-law, Sam, my neighbor, Earl, and I fish from time to time to relax and to take time away from work to enjoy the palisade scenery and catch a bass or two, if we are lucky. We put our seventeen foot Jon boat into the river one late evening and had an hour or two to fish before dark. From Landreth’s Bend, it is always the tale of two rivers. Sometimes the fishing is best up the river, and sometimes it is best down the river, depending upon how much flow is coming from the Dam. Our plan this one evening was to go up river toward the Dam and make our way back before dark on the opposite bank.

After an hour or so we had made it all the way up to the transition water at Duggin’s Bottom without a fish. We then turned around and headed back down the river on the opposite side just as we had planned. We had made it halfway back down to Landreth’s Bend when I caught a glimpse of a small row boat in the far distance slowly making its way toward us. I kept my eye on the little boat as it got closer and closer. As it got near, I could tell it was a lady in a small sailboat without the sail, and as she passed, I could see she had a small-ventilated metal box in the bottom of her boat. Slowly she rowed on up the river and around the bend to Devil’s Back Bone and out of sight. Devil’s Back Bone is the towering palisade wall in the curve of the Dix near the Power Company’s power lines. The three of us continued to fish without success, and we were getting a little frustrated from the lack of action. It was not long before the little boat came back into view, making its way back down the river.

On the opposite side of the river, a herd of black and white Holstein cows was making their way down the river bank on a well-worn path to graze the river bottom pasture. As the little boat approached us, the lady in the boat introduced herself as Patty. As she drifted closer to us, I could see the small-ventilated metal box was jumping around on the bottom of her boat. In a kind voice, Patty asked if we owned any of the land on the river. Earl said no, but we did know some of the landowners on the river. Patty then said she had a question to ask. With interest, Sam, Earl and I without hesitation look at one another at the same time. Again, the small-ventilated metal box began to vibrate. Patty then asked if we knew a safe place where she could turn her possum loose. In this moment, I could tell Sam and Earl had a look of puzzlement on their faces by the question, and for the lack of words, they had no desire to comment and went back to fishing. The thought came to me instantly that you should be able to turn a possum loose most anywhere on a river, and he would be just fine. Patty said from time to time she nurses injured animals and birds back to health and then returns them to the river. She said a dog had injured the possum, and she had nursed him back to health and was looking for a safe place to release him.
 
After a long pause, Sam said Earl had a garden down the river, and he wouldn’t like it if a possum ate his cantaloupes. Personally, I was a little surprised that Sam spoke for Earl because Earl was one of those guys who would let you know how he feels pretty quickly. However, Earl, one of few words, gave Sam an agreeable glance but said nothing. In the meantime, Sam had thrown an ugly brown lizard against a log near the bank, and as soon as it hit the water, a largemouth bass engulfed it. While Sam was fighting his fish, I set the hook on another largemouth on a white fluke. This was totally unexpected because we hadn’t had a hit all evening. Everyone got excited including Patty and the possum. However, this was not the time to think about a possum in a box. Sam and I had our hands full, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I was still trying to figure out why in the world this lady couldn’t find a place to release this possum somewhere on this river. By this time, Patty had drifted into the war zone, and I had to ask her if she could back off some so we could fight our fish, which she gladly did. After Sam and I boated and released our fish, it was back to Patty’s question.

I could tell Patty was really concerned about finding the perfect place to release this possum. Sam and Earl were not helping me by saying nothing, and after some thought I suggested she just take the possum over on the opposite bank and turn it loose. She looked around, took a long look at the cows on the bank and said she couldn’t do that because cows kill possums. At this point, I could see Sam and Earl had left the possum discussion totally up to me, because after catching those two bass, I could tell a possum wasn’t their first priority. After the cow statement, I too was without words so I made another cast to give myself some time to think. Sam and Earl made their cast as well. Earl gave a few jerks with his old beat up Devil Horse and another largemouth bass did a “shark surge” on it. Sam’s lizard found the “grip of jaws” as well. I could not fish for trying to keep Sam’s bass out of the trolling motor. Earl was in the back of the boat trying to keep his fish out of the outboard motor. I don’t know if you have ever caught a bass in the Dix below the Dam before, but I can tell you the cool water and high oxygen content make these bass violent fighters resulting in a lot of air-time. In the excitement, Patty and the possum again drifted closer to our boat, telling us how exciting it was to watch the show. Sam and Earl finally boated and release their fish, but the possum question still lingered.

In my thinking, there were only two things she could do. Either she keeps the possum as a lifelong friend, or she turns him loose somewhere on the river and forgets about it. Just as I was ready to communicate that to her, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye close to the bank near some logs, and the closer I looked at it, I realized it was a beaver. Out of some strange reaction, I threw my fluke near the beaver, and when the fluke hit the water, the beaver slapped the water with loud pop and disappeared. At the same time, a bass nailed my fluke. Sam and Earl thought I had hooked the beaver, and Earl pulled out his pistol to shoot it. Immediately, Patty went berserk almost turning her boat over, including the possum. I thought she was going to have a heart attack right there in her sailboat. If Earl had fired on the beaver, I don’t really know what would have happened. But as it turned out, Earl realized I had hooked a bass and put his pistol back on his holster. Patty sat back in her boat pail, relieved and started to talk to the possum in the box, explaining to the possum nothing was going to happen to him.

In all of the excitement, the sun was starting to go down behind the palisade walls, and down on the river it gets darker faster than up on the cliffs. Patty said she should make her way down the river. As she began to row her boat, she said she would take her possum home make a decision some other day. I have a feeling she may still have that possum being Earl almost shot the beaver. As she made her way down the river and faded from sight, I kept thinking how nice of a person Patty must be to care for animals so much. And, I realized after thinking about the events of the evening, we hadn’t caught a fish until she arrived, and we didn’t get another hit after she left. It came to me we had just been visited by the “Bass Angel”. I do hope Patty found a safe place to return her possum to the river, and he lives a long life whenever and wherever she decided to release him. And you know? If we could catch bass like this each time we floated the river, I wouldn’t care if that possum ate everyone of Earl’s cantaloupe.

A ture story...