Believe it or not….

Try as I might, events that have occurred on my boat over the years make better tales than any I could invent and it is comic how they can reveal my age when I share them with friends and fishing customers. Maybe it is the fact that so many of my tales begin with "Hey, do you remember?"

Swapping tales during a day of fishing is always enjoyable with people from so many backgrounds and walks of life and it's just as enjoyable to hear theirs. Many times when sharing these stories I am reminded of the section in the newspaper I read religiously as a kid, Ripley's Believe it or Not, a compilation of amazing facts that always entertained the imagination. On a recent trip I was persuaded by some clients to put together a few to share that are both funny and make you wonder. Here are some of my favorites.

MY A$$, My A$$!
Years ago I had two guys fishing with me over on Lake Calcasieu; one was in his mid-40s while the other was late-50s or so. The youngest of the pair was a large barrel chested fellow who for some reason had the odd habit of speaking in a very loud voice, nearly shouting, and joked around constantly playing tricks and telling jokes in that strangely loud voice. I got his buddy to the side and discreetly asked what the story was on his speech and behavior. He told me that he was a good friend and a very gentle fellow. He went on to say that he had been struck by lightning. The injury had greatly affected his hearing and some of his memory. It also caused him to behave very childlike in the company of strangers. The explanation made sense so I gave it no further thought.

After a long drift down the shoreline we decided to make the same pass again so I told them both to stay where they were while I idled back to the starting point. Idling along about halfway back, the younger guy jumped up and started screaming, "MY A$$, MY A$$...something stuck me in my ass!"

I had no idea what to do because this guy had been playing practical jokes all day but, this seemed like the real deal, the way he was jumping around and all. I stopped the boat and just sat there as he shouted; "Did you see that? That fish jumped up and stuck me in my ass!"

I was totally shocked watching this guy dance around in the boat. At that moment his buddy grabs a pair of long-nose pliers and playfully said, "Lemme have look, I'll get whatever it is out of your hide if you'll just hold still."

What happened next just floored me. The guy stopped screaming, dropped his trousers and pointed at his left butt cheek. Sure enough there was a red dot on his white jockey briefs, dead-center of his left butt cheek. Trust me, I had no clue what was going on and it was getting weirder by the minute.

The guy with the pliers grabbed the elastic waistband of his undies, jerked them partway down, and promptly pulled what looked like a dorsal fin spine from his buddy's rather fleshy bottom. I absolutely couldn't believe what I was seeing!

With a great sigh of relief Mr. Barrel Chest sat back down on the gunnel showing me the spine and it was better than an inch long. Evidently while we were underway and the guy was sitting in that position with his rear end hanging over, a mullet jumped up and that fin stuck him like a needle. I just shook my head and told him, "You need to buy a lottery ticket on the way home pal. Surviving a lightning strike and now stuck in butt by a mulletwhat are the oddsone in ten million?"

Redfish like snack cakes too!
One summer on the south end of Sabine Lake near the Dredge Hole, my party and I were easing down the bank picking off redfish as they fed intently on whatever they could find. The wakes were easy to spot and the fish were plenty aggressive, so the fishing was good. Ahead of my boat on the shoreline walked a white heron that was shadowing the fish and looking for an easy meal.

As our boat finally got too close for the heron's comfort it flew down the bank to wait for another opportunity. When it took off from the bank the heron evidently knocked a small green grasshopper into the water that was promptly destroyed by one of the nearby redfish. Immediately one of my customers cast into the swirl, hooked up, and landed the fish. We all saw the remains of the grasshopper in its mouth as it went into the cooler.

Later that afternoon at the cleaning table we examined the stomach contents of that same redfish and found something very unique. Now we have all cleaned fish that had old lures or other tackle in their bellies; that's no big shocker right there. But this redfish had what appeared to be a small plastic ball about the diameter of a quarter in its stomach. When I removed it and washed it off it began to unravel, so out of curiosity I continued to open it up until it revealed the ball was a crumpled plastic snack cake tray, the kind that pecan rolls or cupcakes are packaged in. The tray unfolded perfectly and to this day I have no clue as to how or why that redfish decided he needed to eat it.

It Never Fails
Over the years I have had all sorts of people fish with me and their angling skills have ranged from world-class to never having fished before in their lives. For some reason it always seems like the rookie or beginner is the one who invariably catches the most or biggest fish of the trip and the subsequent rodeo in the boat is beyond comical; the other members of the party trying to coach and stay out of his way.

During one of those November afternoons you would die for, overcast and slick with no crowds, I took a group of four anglers from Houston to chase big trout on Sabine. Three of the four were very accomplished fishermen and had spent plenty of time along the Texas coast looking for that career-best trout to put on the wall. The other angler was far from accomplished, as a matter of fact he didn't even know the correct way to hold a rod and reel. Try as he might he was just terribly uncoordinated with the thing.

Finally after some time he settled on using a spinning rig but with his own personal flair, which was with the reel on top and cranking the handle backwards. It was the only way he could make it work and I could not convince him otherwise, so I just let him do his own thing.

The afternoon was a success as we stayed on a large shallow flat and were rewarded with some fantastic topwater action while listening to college football on the radio. In the middle of one our drifts, you guessed it, the guy using the upside-down spinning rig gets absolutely hammered drifting a large soft plastic under a cork. The other anglers had that blank stare of disbelief as the huge fish came to the surface, shook her head, and peeled drag as the rookie angler continued his upside-down backwards winding.

All I could do was shake my head as we lifted a beautiful nine pound trout into the boat. The rookie had no idea what he had just done while his three accomplished angling buddies held back the urge to drown him. A career fish taken by such unconventional means in front of three guys who would eagerly trip their grandmothers to land it. It never fails.

Having the opportunity to be a part of and also share these stories is one of the coolest things about this profession. Looking back and remembering the good and the bad, as well as all the people you get to meet, keeps me coming back for more and looking forward to more to come.