The Trophy Pond- Part 2

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”.