Retrieved my fish bait from my
worm pit/compost pile, grabbed my purple rod and reel as Hubby gathered his little tackle box with all his lures etc. Headed off in the Gator to the top pond with out the dogs that can't stay outta the water. Lizzy got to go because you know she doesn't care too much for swimming.
Hubby starts reeling the bass in before I even get my bucket of worms unloaded. My first cast I hang on a log and have to break the line. Hubby says they're feeding deep so I trudge back to the Gator to get a float to hold my hook at the right depth. I cast again.
Oops! Tangled up in a Button Willow in the edge of the pond and I'm NOT losing another hook, much less a floater. After I retrieved the clippers from the Gator, off with my shoes and jacket. Pushed my pants legs up as far as they would go and stepped carefully into the mucky bottomed pond to save my float. Success. Muddy feet are happy feet.
Contemplating which worm would be prime bait I wondered if they could feel that hook as I strung their little bodies on it. Fished all my life and, believe me, the way they wiggle, they feel it! My line is still not in the water.
I was distracted by a rock. Who, me??
I found another rock that fit my pocket.
Then decided to change fishing spots since I had no bites...
remember my line is not in the water.
Lizzy finds her spot
and I find mine far across from Hubby
where he continues to notify me with glee of how many he's caught!
My mess of fish is growing too!
Final tally...Hubby six, me twelve...but who's counting.
His stringer may be bigger but we all know size doesn't matter.
Mine were released into the spring pond
and
we're having Bass for supper.
