The Trophy Pond

From time to time, Mother Nature and the animals that we purse pull fast ones on us.  Sometimes she likes to prove her dominance by completely ruining a deer hunt with gale force winds.  At other times, she brings in a blanket of snow to make the camouflage of a coyote completely ineffective.  Still yet, it could be monster catfish biting anything that moved as a storm front rolls in.  It could even be a rainbow trout feeding frenzy as Lake Taneycomo waters rose due to Table Rock Dam generating power.  On the other hand, there are times that we have success beyond our imagination with a species that we didn’t plan on pursuing.  For example, I have had countless turkeys approach me while hunting for deer.  My buddy Woody and I found crappie in a 6 inch deep creek while hunting for turkeys.  My budy Busch has caught some big catfish at a farm pond while bass fishing.  This next instance is even a little more odd that all of those I just mentioned.

Busch, Woody, my buddy Dobber, and I were deer hunting on opening weekend for the second straight year together.  It was opening day and we hadn’t had any luck in our pursuits.  As we ended our morning hunt and assembled strategies for the evening, we found some time on our hands.  We didn’t want to walk stretches of timber all day just to spook all of the game and get a marginal shot at best.  

After some debate, I finally talked the guys into going to a small farm pond about 15 miles away.  I had told them about how my dad and I had caught some really nice bass out of the pond a few weeks prior to deer season.  The temperature and overall conditions hadn’t changed much in the last few weeks and I thought they might still be biting.  Reluctantly, they agreed.  Maybe they did it to appease me, or maybe they did it out of boredom. 

When we arrived, my excitement and enthusiasm was peaking.  I think it was common knowledge that my biggest passion lay in fishing.  I loved hunting, don’t get me wrong, but I was a much better fisherman than hunter.  I think my friends would attest to this fact, and at this particular moment, I felt confident.  This was the polar opposite of how I felt about my whitetail pursuits.

As we exited the truck, I started throwing out tactics and what worked last time.  “Use a spinner bait over there.  You can wade into the water a little right here.  If you hook a fish here, you’re going to have to hoist it over a barb wire fence.  See that tree over there.  If you cast under it, there is probably a big bass sitting under it.”  All of this information seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“My dad and I caught some real monsters last time were here.  We didn’t catch any six pounders, but we each caught a five.  We didn’t catch one single small one, I swear.  They are big, mad, and hungry.  They fight like hell and don’t let the small size of this pond fool you.  They’re here, I promise.”  Again, no response.

As I looked up from tying on lures and preparing rods, I noticed they weren’t really listening to me.  They were engaged in a conversation about deer, or beer, or both.  The fact was, that they sure weren’t talking about fishing.  Not only did they not care, but they weren’t even planning on fishing!  When I asked who wanted a rod, not a single offer was accepted.  I couldn’t believe it!  For just a second, I felt terrible. 

As the host, I felt like I was wasting these guys’ time.  I had brought them 15 miles from our hunting spots to a place they didn’t want to be.  I was asking them to do something, they didn’t want to do.  I felt selfish, guilty, and disillusioned.  Heck, I thought about not fishing too.

After a moment, I gained my composure and confidence.  I decided that I was at least going to show them that there were fish in the pond.  We didn’t drive out of our way for nothing, and if we turned around and left without even trying, then this entire idea would have been pointless.  My self-centeredness even kicked in and I simply wanted to do something that I enjoyed after being disappointed from the hunting we experienced earlier that morning.

Awkwardly, I grabbed a rod and some tackle.  I headed toward the pond where a small creek fed in, and offered rods and tackle to everyone one last time.  With a collective and resounding dismissal, I headed off by myself.  I wouldn’t be alone for long.

I had a bass on the line on my first cast.  It felt like a good one and started stretching line and working my drag.  With a proclamation, I informed the guys that I had one on the line already.  They were within site and gave a courtesy glance.  I think they were surprised I caught on one my first cast.  As I hauled in the two pounder, I held it up for all to see.  This seemed to spark the most interest I had seen in them since we got out of the trucks.  When I hooked a second fish on my second cast and held up a three pounder, the overall mood changed.

A feeling of joy and reassurance set in.  I no longer felt like I had disappointed my friends or that I was asking them to do something they were reluctant to do.  A weight lifted off my shoulders in the guilt that I had accrued.  This epiphany was realized as I saw my best friends scrambling for fishing rods and tackle in the back of my truck. 

The group mood had made a pendulum swing from apathy to that of excitement in a matter of moments.  The sight of these big bass and the frequency in which they were biting fueled excitement.  There was only one problem, there weren’t enough rods.  I was the only one who had brought tackle, and I only had three rods.  Lures weren’t a problem because I had plenty of those.  In this dilemma, I saw a chance for further redemption with my friends.

The right thing to do was to assume the role as host and make sure everyone was having fun and happy.  I would be remiss if I didn’t say it was hard to give up my rod at first, but then a new feeling took the place of apprehensiveness.  I gained a new perspective seeing my friends enthusiasm increase.  The feeling of wanting to catch every fish in the pond was replaced with the desire to watch my friends attempt to do the same.

As the guys started hooking fish, the smiles and excitement started showing up as well.  Eventually, there was an electricity in the air as well as hoots and hollers.  As fish were landed, we started putting them on scales and comparing catches.  I grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures.  I cannot explain the amount of joy that swelled inside me as I watched my friends smile, laugh, and tangle with some of the best bass fishing any of us had ever seen.

As quickly as the feeding frenzy started, it also tapered off, but what was missing was a feeling of disappointment.  Everyone had caught their fair share of big bass and everyone had a story to share.  Everyone had success under their belts and a new confidence was shared communally.  The feeling of disappointment that loomed after the morning hunt was gone and so was my inner dilemma that consumed me after we had arrived at the pond.  We were all smiles and gathered around the truck again.  This time we swapped stories of successes.  Feeling head shakes, watching line get taken from our reels, and finding bass under tree branches replaced talk of frustration with deer and a lack of understanding deer behavior.

As the hunt wrapped up, we all went our separate ways.  As usual, we took home stories and memories that would last a lifetime.  Oddly enough, most of the stories had nothing to do with bucks or does.  We didn’t fill all of our tags, and none of us took home any venison.  What we did have was a yarn about the most incredible bass fishing experience any of us had ever witnessed.  Mother Nature baited us with deer hunting, but came through with the bass fishing.  She had pulled a fast one on us again and introduced us to what would become affectionately be referred to as the “Trophy Pond”.