Get The Net

Ol Darv and I were heading for the mountains to try and catch a stringer full of small mouths and bluegills. We had decided to take a different route to our destination in hopes of discovering some new sites. Halfway through our 4-hour trek, I saw an old sign, and in big letters it said, “Trout Ponds, No limit, No license required”. I had always wondered about these places. So I applied some brake and we pulled into the parking lot. There was no one else around except an old man asleep in the booth where you pay for your fish. I grabbed my ultra light pole, banged on the booth, waking the old man. He said, you have to keep all you catch, here’s a net and a five-gallon bucket. Try the lower of three ponds; it has the bigger fish in it. The price is eighteen cents an inch, anything under nine inches is free.
I couldn’t wait; each pond was about fifty yards long. I made my way to the third pond. Hooked up my favorite tender tube and gave it a sling. It no sooner hit the water, and BAM I had on a 24 incher, I yelled for Ol Darv to get the net; he scooped that fish up and in the process of doing so, he scooped up two more. Darv!! I said, you’re costing me money, as he dumped all three fish into the bucket. Ol Darv said, the old man said we had to keep all we caught; he didn’t say how we were to catch them. I fixed my bait and tossed it toward the deep end and BAM, I had another big one on. I yelled, get the net. Ol Darv scooped up that fish and two more. Darv!! I said, that’s six fish and I only caught two. He was too busy laughing. I tossed in one more time and again the fight was on. Only this time, I didn’t want any part of Ol Darv or that net. He was chasing me around that pond yelling, “I’ll get him, I’ll get him”, and I was yelling “get away from me with that net”. I am not sure if he gave up or I out ran him. But he finally quit. I wrestled my fish up into the bucket, turned around to see Ol Darv on his hands and knees scooping fish out of the pond with the net and tossing them up on the bank. I said, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, we’re going to get arrested. He laughed and said he was trying to get a real big one but these others kept getting into the net. About that time his foot hit the bucket and over it went. Fish were flopping everywhere. I grabbed some fish, and the others flopped back into the water. Ol Darv said, see now I'm saving you money. Ol Darv said, looky here at what I got, and he scooped a 36-inch rainbow trout up on the bank. As soon as that fish hit the grass it started floppin and every time Ol Darv would slap his hand down on it, it would shoot out across the grass. He was crawling after it and the third time he hit that fish it went back into the water with a SPLASH. I think that fish broke Ol Darv's heart by the look on his face. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t speak. Ol Darv said he was done fishing for today. We loaded up our stuff and paid the man. Somehow we still managed to have eleven fish for a grand total of thirty-eight dollars. Ol Darv still talks about the big one that got away. I keep telling him it’s not fishing, it’s scooping. He says it’s all in the terminology, catching is catching.
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Bow Fishing

While out at the local sporting goods store I spied a bow fishing combo kit, and as fate would have it, I happen to have an extra compound bow. I picked up the kit, undeterred by the amount of dust on it and headed for the checkout. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Ol Darv's face when I let him in on my latest idea. Ol Darv was a little less than excited about shooting fish with arrows, but not one to avoid a new experience we headed for the lake. Ol Darv had a 10-foot canoe and he looked a little skeptical when I explained I was going to stand on the top edge of the canoe. If you have ever been in a canoe you know how hard it is to sit in one, not to mention stand up; the slightest movement will cause the canoe to tilt or flip over. Ol Darv was a good sport; he paddled me all over that lake with me shooting at carp and although I never I hit one, every time I would shoot, Ol Darv would laugh while I tried to regain my balance. After two hours, I was ready to quit and Ol Darv was ready to give up the paddling. Getting down turned into a harder ordeal than I planned. About the time my left foot hit the bottom of the boat that canoe turned sideways and, splash, Ol Darv hit the water. Somehow I managed to stay in the boat. Since we were three feet from the bank, I stepped out onto the shore. Ol Darv sat there in two feet of water; he was unimpressed by my cat-like reflex. He said next time we are going snipe hunting and I get to hold the bag. I can’t wait.

The Trail Below

Always trying to stay as warm as possible, I borrowed Dad’s blue nylon coveralls and headed for the high country. Ol Darv and I were looking for whitetails and as fate would have it the snow was flying. We got to the camp about an hour before daylight, and I headed off to my stand. The wind was blowing hard up high. So I decided to sit on my backup stand, a small ledge. Once on the ledge, I was about three miles above the valley. About two hundred yards below the ledge, a small trail wrapped itself around the mountain. It wasn’t long before I felt the need to climb down to the trail and see how much activity the fresh snow would reveal. It was almost noon and I couldn’t stand it any longer. Trying to be as careful as possible I crawled around the side of the ledge and worked myself to the bottom of the ledge. Feeling proud of myself for getting down unscathed, I took my first and last step toward the trail. I am not sure if I lost my grip, slipped, or tripped. However, I do remember thinking to just sit down. A lesson learned a long time ago, it’s better to fall and get over it than to pull a muscle trying to catch yourself. As soon as I made contact with the snow, my feet flew up. And down the mountain I went. This being the first time I had worn nylon coveralls, I had not given any thought as to how slick they would be as they made contact with snow. Since I weigh in at about 250 pounds, it didn’t take long for me to reach warp speed. My first thought after saying AAAAAAAAAHHHH was put your feet down it will slow you down. All this did was create a plow effect. I was still picking up speed so I raised my feet. I felt every rock, bush, and boulder as I traveled toward the trail. This seemed like such a good idea just a short time ago. I used the butt of the deer rifle to help steer me around some of the bigger lumps in the snow that I figured could only be large rocks. I crossed the trail at a speed just short of breaking the sound barrier. I flew about ten feet in the air and landed on my backside. I could see a large tree approaching. So I lowered my feet, dug in, and impacted like a bug hitting a windshield. Thinking the worst was over, I rolled over just in time to have all the debris that I stirred up to come crashing down on top of me. Dazed, I stepped onto the trail and tried to shake the experience off hoping no one saw what happened. The zippers on both pant legs had come unzipped about half way up and the snow had packed in all the way up to my belt. I couldn’t get the snow out my pants without taking off the whole outfit. I walked back to the camp barely able to bend my knees for all the compacted snow. An hour later, Ol Darv came in and said that he saw the strangest thing. He said that he was coming around the mountain on the old trail and it looked like a bear had come off the hill the way the snow was wallowed out. He then said that out of the clear blue there were some boot tracks? He said that he didn’t know how that feller got where he was but he could have found a better way to travel.