Spring Fishing
2007 Private Lakes Pontotoc Co.
More often than not, whenever Jim Hess,
Lee Gordon, and I plan a fishing trip, some adversity befalls us that turns
our outing into an adventure. For example, last year, the three of us got
to the lake to discover the battery for the trolling motor was down. This
meant our only means of propulsion was a boat paddle. Additionally, the tips
of two of Jim's fishing rods were snapped while being transported in the
back of his pickup from Vicksburg to Pontotoc. This year, we were fortunate
that nothing out of the ordinary interrupted our enjoyment of fishing. Jim
charged the battery in my garage, and he purchased a rod holder to protect
his fishing rods during transit.
Originally, Jim and I had discussed fishing Thursday, Friday, and Saturday,
but that got reduced to just Friday and Saturday morning. It turned out to
be a good thing, at least for me. I took off Thursday, which gave me plenty
of time to shop for the food we would need for the next few days and to check
out my fishing equipment. Oh, I did manage to get this weekly newsletter
done Thursday morning, freeing me up for conversation Thursday evening when
Jim arrived.
Later Thursday evening, I phoned Lee Gordon to discuss a time to leave from
my house to fish a nearby lake. Lee, who likes to get an early start, pushed
for a seven o'clock start time, but I told him to arrive by seven-thirty
and hope we'd be ready to leave by eight o'clock. Barbara, Jim, and I had
finished eating breakfast by the time Lee arrived, but I was busy making
the ham and turkey sandwiches for our lunch and packing our food supplies
into ice chests. Lee and Jim chatted and drank coffee as I finished my chores.
Shortly after eight o'clock we were underway.
Though, I had contacted the property owner and received permission to fish,
we found the gate locked. Luckily, his wife was at home and told us where
a key could be found. When the key wasn't where she thought it should be,
she phoned her husband.
"He's put it in a different shed," she reported, and led us to find the key
right where her husband had put it.
"Should we put back the ones we catch?" I asked, wanting to respect the wishes
of the owner.
"No, there're too many fish in there, now. Keep all of them!" she responded.
"I've not wet a hook this year."
As we were getting our boat into the water and loading our gear into the
boat, I realized I had not brought my rain suit. It had rained a little during
the night, and the weatherman was predicting a 60% chance of rain during
the day Friday.
"Do you want to take my truck and go back to get it?" Jim asked.
"No, that's too much trouble opening the two gates; anyway, Barbara would
bring it out here if I called her. But, I don't want her to have to do that,
either, so if it rains, I'll just get wet."
Though met with generous offers from Lee and Jim to use the bottom portions
of their rain suits, I declined.
"Like, I'm gonna wear one of y'alls bottoms on my head." I replied to their
laughter. "If I get wet, y'all should, too."
With that, Lee and Jim decided to leave their rain gear in the truck.
Maybe, that's why, I got stuck with the task of running the trolling motor.
I protested that I couldn't maneuver as well as either of my fishing partners,
but they insisted, I'd get the hang of it. I may have gotten better, as the
hours ticked by, but I never got the hang of it. Did I mention it was a windy
day and we didn't have a boat anchor? My dexterity isn't what it once was,
but I managed to keep the boat from blowing ashore, and I managed to get
some fishing done.
The first hour of fishing set the tone for the day. I had great success on
a top-water bait, almost from the first cast. My friends reluctantly set
aside their spinner baits and beetle spins, when it became apparent the fish
were fond of my devil's horse lure. It’s not they weren't catching fish
with what they were throwing; it was that I was enjoying a higher success
ratio. Oh, that I caught a 4 pound bass and a 4.5 pound bass, during the
first hour's fishing, may have influenced their decision to change to top-water
lures.
Around 10:00 a.m. a light rain began falling.
"Take us back to the truck," my wimpy friends wailed. "We don't want to get
wet."
"What about me?"
"You can sit in the truck and watch us fish," was the reply.
I don't remember who said it, but my educated guess is Lee, as he's the sarcastic
one of the two.
Jim and Lee put on their rain suits while I waited in the boat. Shortly
afterwards, the light rain stopped. I never did get wet, only damp. Not long
after the cloudy sky became partly cloudy and the sun peeked out, Jim and
Lee shucked off their rain suits. It would be my favorite part of the entire
day, my friends wearing rain gear they didn't really need, and I didn't even
get wet.
From a fishing standpoint, the day was fantastic. We kept in excess of one
hundred fish. Of these, perhaps one-fifth of them were bream; the rest were
small bass. Before leaving, I returned the two big ones that I caught earlier.
Most folks look skeptical when we tell them about fishing this lake and catching
so many fish. Yet, as long as we've fished there the fish population has
been absurdly high, but that's largely due to the fact not enough folks get
a chance to fish the lake.
At some time in the afternoon, Lee took to catching bream with a crappie
lure. I remember one occasion when he took twenty-something bream as fast
as he could drop the lure into the water and retrieve a fish. I'm talking
twenty or so consecutive casts. And Jim did almost as well with bass, where
for a half-hour or more he may have caught one fish for every two or three
casts. There may be a better lake to take a child fishing, but I don’t
know where it would be.
Needless to say, by three-thirty that afternoon, we'd had enough fun for
the day and decided too much work lay ahead for us to stay on the water any
longer. I had supper to prepare and Jim and Lee had fish to clean. As I recall,
eight of us ate a steak dinner that was scrumptious, even before the apple
dumpling dessert and ice cream were served.
Lee spent the night with us, rather than drive back to West Point and then
get up early Saturday morning. While none of us needed anything for breakfast
Saturday morning, we managed to put away a plate of country ham, fried eggs,
biscuits and sorghum molasses.
Shortly after eight a.m., we were at Joel Hale's lake, where I keep my boat.
Joel had said he might fish a while with us, but that it might be nine or
ten when he joined us. He had also warned that a mossy scum had almost completely
covered his lake, and that a trolling motor would not be of much use.
Joel and I had fished about a month before, and the scum was already getting
bad. The good thing about it is one can work a weed-less plastic frog across
the surface of the scum and often a bass will break through all the mess
to strike the lure. Sometimes, though, they wait until it's pulled off the
edge of the scum. Either way, it's a thrill to see a fish hit a lure on the
surface of the water.
Since my boat is a little larger than Jim's, we loaded our equipment into
it and begin to fish some of the clear areas. It didn't take me long to realize
I had probably done too much the previous day. I was sore all over and would
have much rather been sitting in a recliner or lying in bed. Fishing was
slow, but we were catching fish when Joel arrived about 9:30 a.m. We didn't
keep any bass, as I had filled about fourteen quart bags with fish filets
Friday evening. Lee wanted a few crappie (white perch) for his wife, and
I believe he caught twelve of them.
Joel and I fished using Jim's boat, while Lee and Jim fished from my boat.
I was almost too tired to enjoy myself, but the occasional strike would revive
me from time to time, plus Joel pulled in a few fish while we were together.
We left the lake around twelve-thirty, as Jim had a four-hour drive back
to Vicksburg. I didn't envy him. I've made a similar trek under similar
conditions, and I remember it's a challenge to stay awake at the wheel.
Jim will be back in the fall to fish here again, and depending on which hunting
season is open, Lee may fish with us, too. By then, I'll have forgotten all
my aches and pains, and in all likelihood will have eaten my share of last
week's catch and will be anxious to catch some more fish.
Bodock Beau
Credit Card Problem
A lady died this past January, and Citibank billed her for February and March
for their annual service charges on her credit card, and added late fees
and interest on the monthly charge. The balance had been $0.00 and now was
somewhere around $60.00.
A family member placed a call to Citibank. Here is the exchange: (comments
are not Beau's)
Family Member: "I am calling to tell you she died in January."
Citibank: "The account was never closed and the late fees and charges
still apply."
Family Member: "Maybe, you should turn it over to collections."
Citibank: "Since it is two months past due, it already has been."
Family Member: So, what will they do when they find out she is dead"
Citibank: "Either report her account to frauds division or report
her to the credit bureau, maybe both!"
Family Member: "Do you think God will be mad at her?" (I really liked
this part!)
Citibank: "Excuse me?"
Family Member: "Did you just get what I was telling you about the
part about her being dead"
Citibank: "Sir, you'll have to speak to my supervisor."
Supervisor gets on the phone:
Family Member: "I'm calling to tell you she died in January."
Citibank: "The account was never closed and late fees and charges
still apply." (This must be a phrase taught by the bank!)
Family Member: "You mean you want to collect from her estate?"
Citibank: (Stammering) "Are you her lawyer?"
Family Member: "No, I'm her great nephew."
(Lawyer info given)
Citibank: "Could you fax us a certificate of death?"
Family Member: "Sure." (Fax number is given)
After they get the fax:
Citibank: "Our system just isn't set up for death. I don't know what
more I can do to help."
Family Member: "Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could
just keep billing her. I don't think she will care."
Citibank: "Well, the late fees and charges do still apply?" (What
is wrong with these people!)
Family Member: "Would you like her new billing address?"
Citibank: "That might help."
Family Member: " Odessa Memorial Cemetery, Highway 129, Plot Number
69."
Citibank: "Sir, that's a cemetery!"
Family Member: "What do you do with dead people on your planet?
Shared by Ken Gaillard
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