Adapting to the Current

This is a follow up to last week’s post about change. The mention of the word usually makes me cringe, but I have had a lot of exposure to change lately and my tolerance to it is improving. In fact, my new surroundings have catapulted my fishing in new and exciting directions.

Lately I have been scouting out several different spots, looking for that perfect hideaway that holds fish but not the attention of other fisherman. This means I have to get off the beaten path. This also means I will most likely sacrifice size and quantity of fish, but that’s ok. I am happy to get a line in the water!

After a couple of unsuccessful outings I went back to the drawing board and developed a new plan. I emptied all of my trout tackle out of my fishing vest and replaced it with all of my micro-bass tackle. The goal: stream fishing for smallmouth bass.

To reach these smallies one must get out into the water. Thankfully this April evening was rather warm, so the cold clear water felt refreshing as I waded up stream. This trip was part fishing and part reconnaissance. I was fortunate to have caught one little feller and spooked a decent looking fish out of its hole while I was retrieving a hung-up lure.

Having caught one fish, I consider the night a success. I saw several others and got to know the structure of this particular stretch. There are several holes with laydowns that are perfect hiding spots for the ol’ bronze backs. I am certain I will be revisiting this stream in the very near future.

Through the years I have learned that the best fisherman are those who can adapt to the changing conditions. Those who are persistent, think outside of the box, and use their intuition are those who find success. All too often anglers seldom stray from their favorite lures and wait for the conditions to be right. Life has made sure in this case, that I am not one of those men.

So I adapt to the changing current. Just as I learned the riprap and sandy water of the Cedar, I am learning the rapids, runs, and holes of the Indian. It all takes patience and practice just like anything else. Fishing, like life, is a journey. It is in the journey that I find satisfaction.

Sometimes Change Just Happens

Change is one of those things that I am not very fond of. Unfortunately change sometimes just finds us and there is nothing we can do but make the best of it. Well, change found me recently and I no longer live among the rolling fields and herds of deer.

A few months ago I relocated to a somewhat urban area where I currently share the same vertical space with some quiet neighbors. I am thankful for the fact that they are quiet. The one exception being the gentleman above me who is a lumberjack by night.

Fortunately, the metropolis that is my new home was built around the same river I have been bothering for the past 16 years. I am happy to have found several parks that very much resemble my former home, and this has eased the transition considerably.

With change comes the need to adapt. Circumstances are such that I will be bank-bound for a while, so I have been scouting out some nearby streams. Rumor has it that one of them in particular has some good smallmouth fishing.

So for the time being, I will be putting my medium weight baitcasting rod down for my ultra-light spinning rod. I even plan to break out the fly rod and waders in the near future. I once went fly fishing for trout in the Driftless Area streams a few years ago and am anxious to try that type of fishing again.

Just like the river, our lives are always changing whether we like it or not. One thing is for sure, change takes us in a new direction and challenges us. Who knows? You might find new opportunities that you had never even thought were possible.

Cell Phone Separation Anxiety

It has been a while since this thirsty fisherman has done any writing. That’s because this thirsty fisherman has been too busy to get into any trouble. Thankfully tonight changed that. I finally got a free night where the weather wasn’t too hot, too windy, or raining.

As soon as I got home from work I changed my clothes, grabbed my gear, and hopped into my old truck. Halfway to my favorite fishin’ hole I realized I forgot my phone. A wave of panic fell over me.

“What am I going to do without my phone?” I thought to myself.

Then I remembered… I am going fishing! Fishing is what I do to get away from the world, and the last thing I want is a phone buzzing in my pocket.

In this world we live in we think we need to be connected 24 hours a day, 7 days a week… but what is it that we are connecting to? The world isn’t going to end if I miss an hour’s worth of Facebook updates.

I say that as if I can actually check Facebook on my phone. I can’t because I happen to prefer vintage cell phones… but that is beside the point.

If someone calls and it is important, they will leave a message. If it wasn’t important… well then I am probably better off having missed the call.

Yes, a phone would be nice for the day my rusty old 4x4 doesn’t start… when I am in the middle of nowhere with a stringer full of ‘gills. But then again, the walk could do me some good… especially the way I got so excited about my new pants with elastic in the waist.

So I offer you this challenge: next time you head outdoors leave your phone behind… you just might find you enjoy the connection to world around you.

Don't Let Small Waters Stunt Your Growth

I just got back from one of my favorite fishin’ holes: a 1 acre farm pond a few miles down the road from my place. It’s a great place to fish because not many people know of it and there is almost no fishing pressure. There is nothing I like better than to sneak away and enjoy the silence of pursuing largemouth bass on a Sunday evening.

This body of water isn’t what it used to be though… At one time there were lots of bluegills to keep the bass population in balance. These fish are no longer present and the bass population has exploded. Weather has also been a factor: we have had a couple of hot and dry summers followed by one of the longest and coldest winters I can remember. All of these factors have been detrimental to the health of the fish.

In its heyday it was common to catch several keeper-size fish in an afternoon, some of which were very respectable. The lack of proper management has made these fish a thing of the past. Lately I have caught mostly fish of mediocre size which often appear stressed. There simply isn’t enough room in this pond for the bass to grow the way they should.

If you took a fish from my favorite pond and put it into a 43,000 acre lake it could very well grow to be the fish that is talked about for generations. Take Table Rock Lake for example… This lake is legendary for fish that are worthy of residing in Texas. Large fisheries like these are monitored by biologists and maintained by fishermen to keep fish populations in check.

It is amazing how much we can learn about our own lives by looking to nature… This same phenomenon happens with people. When constricted we are not able to reach our full potential, but when given room to grow and proper guidance it is amazing what can be achieved. So get out there and use what you learned in the farm pond to get you out in the big water!

You Ain’t No Cowboy If ‘An You Ain’t Got No Horse!

Today’s post really has nothing to do with fishing… It’s just one of the many funny stories from my not-so-distant shady past when I moonlighted as a farmhand. Actually, to be more accurate I was the assistant to the farmhand.  In other words, I was the one who got stuck doing the jobs nobody else would do...


Most of my duties on the farm centered on the heard of almost-purebred Angus and Heinz 57 variety steers. Over several years I became quite accomplished at calling cows in for their morning feed and fixin’ fences.


Of all my adventures, moving the herd from one wooded “pasture” to another was the most eventful!  My job was always to bring up the rear, keeping the herd together and moving along.  I was also the one keeping an eye on the misfits of the group, and there was always at least one… a blind calf, a bull that injured himself in the line of duty, or a cow with an infected foot.

I would like to say that my stint on the “ranch” qualifies me as a cowboy. All of this wranglin’ would have been much easier with a horse and a lasso. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.  On countless occasions I stumbled for miles through thorn bushes, ‘cross creeks, up and down hills… all on foot!


At the end of one drive, after counting the cows about ten times (because counting 80 head of black cattle is like counting 80 identical marbles that never stop moving) we discovered one calf was missing.  So back to the woods we went…


Fortunately, it didn’t take too long to find the poor little thing that got lost in the timber.  This little feller had been badly injured and was pretty scared.  Catching an animal that doesn’t want to be caught is not an easy task and it eventually came down to us cornering it in a particularly nasty patch of multiflora rose.


Finally my associate tackled the calf and exclaimed, “Damn, I wish we had a rope.”  Then he looks up at me and says, “Take off your belt… we’ll use that!” Farmers are resourceful people who will use just about anything that will get the job done and this was no exception.

So here I was leading this wounded calf with my belt in one hand and the other holding my pants up.  After the longest half-mile ever I have ever walked we got him back to the barn.  The vet took care of him and he ended up being just fine, the only reminder of his injuries was a patch on his hind end that didn’t have any hair. For the rest of the season he was known as Patch.


Sure it would have been nice to have horse, and believe me I pleaded with the boss for an equine assistant many times.  We didn’t have a rope either, so we just used my belt and made it work.  So it is in life, sometimes ya just have to find a way to make do with what ya got…

Quit Worrying About the One That Got Away

All of my fellow thirsty fishermen out there know the story well… You’re sittin’ on the bank, just about to doze off, or maybe you’re in a heated argument with your fellow fishermen about which is better: stink bait or livers. Then all of a sudden the tip of your rod starts violently jerking towards the water, resembling an angry goose pecking into the air.

The fight is on and your heart starts pumping! There is nothing more exhilarating than gettin’ a big ‘un on the line. Playing and landing a fish is a fine art, unless you are a bass fisherman with 100 pound braided line, powered wench, and a telephone pole for a rod. (I can say this because I am a closet bass fisherman!)

You do your best not to reel too hard, which will surely cause this whale to snap your line. Yet you are dying to see what your next wall mount will look like. It’s a fine balance and patience is definitely a virtue well used in these types of situations.

All of a sudden there is a “snap” and a frayed end of line comes sailing back to you in the wind, settling around your hat like a halo. “Well, shucks!” you say. What could have been a state record, or at least a year’s worth of bragging rights with the boys down at the coffee shop, is now gone.

This happens often and it is easy for us anglers to immortalize that fish, creating stories of legend. One must be careful, as this thinking can be unproductive and even detrimental to your success… Yes there are lessons to be learned, but that fish isn't worth obsessing over. The important thing is that you were out fishing. So now the only thing to do is get back out there, get your line on that water, forget about the one that got away, and go catch the next big one!

What Does It Mean To Be Thirsty?

I thought to myself the other day, “What does it mean to be a thirsty fisherman?”  Well, let me give you some background on how it started.  At work I write a blog and one of my posts was describing an experiment using ice and our insulation product. This experiment left me with a 2.5 gallon bucket that was essentially a cooler which happened to be perfect for holding my favorite bottles of beer on my tiny tin boat.

I spent father’s day out on the lake with my bucket full of Leinenkugel’s.  I took some pics and wrote a post under the persona of The Thirsty Fisherman.  “Thirsty” started off as a coy way of suggesting I was longing to be happily under the influence.  I loved writing in this suggestive and humorous voice, however it was not well suited for selling insulation products.

That is why I conceived of this blog you are currently reading.  I wanted a place, a platform, a venue if you will to make witty observations about fishing and life.

Why am I a Thirsty Fisherman?

Life is not possible without water.  We need water to survive and our bodies tell us when we need more.  Without thirst we would not know when we need to replenish our systems with much needed moisture.

Fishing makes me very thirsty, so it is important to stay hydrated by drinking water when out on the water in the sun. Of course it doesn’t hurt to have a few barley waters now and then.

Many times it isn’t just our bodies that need replenishment, our souls need to be fueled as well.    When I am fishing I enter a frame of mind in which there is no time and space and the worries of everyday life disappear.  This is exactly what my spirit needs to rest and recharge.

I love fishing because it doesn’t matter if I am good or bad at it and nobody cares whether I do it or not.  For me there are absolutely no strings attached.  I do it for the pure joy of doing it regardless of the outcome.  How many things in life can we say that about?

I admit I am always thirsty for a good brew, but what I am really after is that moment of peace when angler and nature merge into one and time stands still.  This is what replenishes my soul, this... is what I thirst for.