This morning Jeffry and I headed out to try and catch a few bream. The sky was overcast at sunrise and with a 70% chance of rain I didn't know if we would
see the sun at all. We did, but it was only for a few minutes. A day at the lake wouldn't be complete without at least one gator and the one we saw
approached us as soon as we left the landing. It showed no fear or respect and his curiosity is going to ultimately result in him having a short life. Had I
been alone today I would have attempted to motor up to it and crack a paddle over its head. That would be the best thing I could do for it.
On my second cast I hooked a decent bass. I backed off the drag and it ran me straight into some grass and lily pads. I was sure it would get off but it wasn't able to get my lure hung on the stem of a pad. When we were within a few feet I was able to see its back. A swish of the tail left nothing but a swirl and a broken line. Oh well, there'd be other chances. We caught the first bream before we had gone more than fifty yards and it was a keeper. A few more meant Jeffry would have fresh fish for dinner. We caught a pickerel or two and one very small bass but we never really were able to find numbers of bream. It is rare that I get broken off because I don't try and muscle the fish but it happened again a little later on. This time it was on a nice bream. It was in a small hole and after I was able to turn it away from the pads and get it to the surface I thought my best chance to keep it under control would be if I kept his nose out of the water. My line must have gotten frayed by a pickerel because as I was reaching for the fish my line snapped. I was within a foot of grabbing him. That's about the same time we heard the first thunder in the distance. For me that means it's time to head for home. I don't like risky living. We still ended up with eleven bream in the couple of hours we were out there. With so much new water the fish are scattered and it will probably take a couple of years before it improves significantly.
I took a picture of the old road when we got back to the landing. Dick will remember walking down it two years ago when it was at least a quarter of a mile before you reached the water. Now it's deep enough that I can't walk to the posts sticking up without getting my shorts wet.
On my second cast I hooked a decent bass. I backed off the drag and it ran me straight into some grass and lily pads. I was sure it would get off but it wasn't able to get my lure hung on the stem of a pad. When we were within a few feet I was able to see its back. A swish of the tail left nothing but a swirl and a broken line. Oh well, there'd be other chances. We caught the first bream before we had gone more than fifty yards and it was a keeper. A few more meant Jeffry would have fresh fish for dinner. We caught a pickerel or two and one very small bass but we never really were able to find numbers of bream. It is rare that I get broken off because I don't try and muscle the fish but it happened again a little later on. This time it was on a nice bream. It was in a small hole and after I was able to turn it away from the pads and get it to the surface I thought my best chance to keep it under control would be if I kept his nose out of the water. My line must have gotten frayed by a pickerel because as I was reaching for the fish my line snapped. I was within a foot of grabbing him. That's about the same time we heard the first thunder in the distance. For me that means it's time to head for home. I don't like risky living. We still ended up with eleven bream in the couple of hours we were out there. With so much new water the fish are scattered and it will probably take a couple of years before it improves significantly.
I took a picture of the old road when we got back to the landing. Dick will remember walking down it two years ago when it was at least a quarter of a mile before you reached the water. Now it's deep enough that I can't walk to the posts sticking up without getting my shorts wet.
