A couple of casts later I felt a subtle tug on the end of my line. Nothing too aggressive, but noticeable. I set the hook and felt something SOLID on the other end. I actually thought I was snagged for a minute but saw my fly line swimming parallel to the bank. That sparked my interest and my focus turned to hyperfocus. You know that feeling when you hook a fish and you have no idea what it is or how big it is but you know something is different. That's when the tunnel vision kicks in. Everything around you seems to melt away. You don't notice other people or hear anything. All you can concentrate on is being ready to react to what the fish is doing and appreciating the fact that you are in a fight!
The fish stayed down, but didn't go straight to the bottom like a catfish. It didn't make a run like a bass or spin in circles like a bluegill. When I saw my leader coming to the surface, my heart raced at the thought of seeing what I had hooked. It took a minute to get an ID on the fish because was, well, black. All black. Now I have caught some black crappie this spring but NOTHING close to this. My heart sank a little when he thrashed on the surface because I thought I had snagged him in the side but the excitement came back when I lifted his head out of the water.
As I started to get him closer to the bank, panic set in a little. I cannot tell you how many respectable fish I have lost at the bank. As I reach out of a good fish, my heart races and I'm pretty sure that I literally asked God to not let me lose this fish. Later on, I told God that I was sorry for treating him like Santa Claus. When I finally had the chance to lip the crappie, I squeezed as hard as I could without trying to break his/her jaw. I was in awe when I pulled him/her out of the water because this was the biggest black crappie I had ever caught.
The tale of the tape on this puppy was 13 inches long with a weight of one pound, three ounces. And while this wasn't a six pound bass or five pound rainbow trout, it was my fish of the spring! It was special for a lot of reasons. Number one, I tied the wooly that I caught him on. Number two, I was able to start catching fish by dissecting what wasn't working and found a plan that did. Finally, I was proud that I was able to stay out of my own way and not screw anything up. I'm historically good at screwing things up, but was able to avoid disaster! That's big for me but probably not a pattern that I will be adopting. And while I was fishing for a big fish, I wound up catching an even better memory and a heck of a story to tell. Like the hokey pokey, that's what it's all about.
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