I thought i would start a new thread about fish tales. things happen to us all if you have any good stories let's hear em even those "uso's" "unidenified swimming objects"

One quiet calm morning right when the sun was rising i dropped three lines in the water i was ready man it was going to be a good day! one of my poles started getting a bump so i slowly picked it up and waited and there it was i popped it it was a bass he was about 4 pounds and i was having trouble getting him in the boat when all of a sudden this huge crappie must of been 7 pounds came up and swallowed that bass now i had a crappie on and i was stugglin i forgot all about my net and he was about to break my line so i was playing easy when all of a sudden a huge 20 pound blue came up and swallowed my crappie then took off for the deep pulled every inch of my line outa my reel.
Did i cry? Yes!
did i have a witness? NO!
Do i still fish that spot? YES! well if you have any stories please tell em.
Thanks
gotcrappie?

Anybody who has fished the Winganon Bridge area in the springtime can relate to this.

Has 7 poles out one morning, and was catching a decent mess, when all of a sudden one of my poles doubled over and took off. I grabbed the pole out of it's holder and the fight was on!! It lasted about 5 minutes and I was quite fortunate that I didn't have all my poles wrapped up.

It was a longnose gar, I would guess 5' long, and about 15 to 20lbs.

I've also caught some mammoth catfish here also, while crappie fishing.

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"We, the unwilling, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much, for so long, with so little, we are now qualified to do anything with nothing."

Nothing can ruin a good fishin trip like a gar, had a day last summer that no matter where we went it seemed like the gar would follow.

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Goodnight Vienna...Pistols Firing!!!

Back in the late 70's I went to Canada with 15 other boys all juniors and seniors plus a couple of football coaches as range hands ridin herd over us. We went on a 120 mile canoe trip up through Ely Minnesota into Canada. On about the fourth day we all decided to have a fishing tournament and we picked partners and headed out on this pristine lake with bragging rights on our minds. We didn't have a clue as to what a pike or walleye looked like, not to mention what we should use to catch one. So we decided we were after the small-mouths because we knew how to catch bass. I tied on a large yellow and black bettle spin, who knows why, I never fished with one at home. We started catching fish right off the bat. The dang lake was full of fish and we were feeling pretty good about ourselves and gettin cockier with each fish we caught. We had a really good stringer when we paddled into this beautiful V- shaped cove with reeds growing on both sides. We patiently paddled all the way back into it where we thought was a perfect place for a huge fish to hang out. I threw that forever etched into my mind bettle spin into the perfect spot right in the back of the cove and started crankin and we both saw this wake coming up behind the lure and it struck my lure and swam straight at the boat after I set the hook. It moved at the speed of light as our jaws dropped and it swam straight past the end of the canoe I was in and headed towards Texas. It had so much speed that it literally jerked the front end of the canoe around and pulled the boat at trolling speed when my line got tight. I instinctively started back reeling or just controlling the handle as it peeled line off and my partner Larry held onto the canoe like we had Moby Dick. Well after a good 15 minutes I finally got the upper hand and reeled the 20 lb pike up to the canoe. This is when we both realized we didn't know how to bring a fish with 1/2" teeth into the boat. We didn't have a net so we decided to use the technique we had heard one of the other boys mention. I reached down and grabbed that monster with my thumb in one eye and my middle finger in his other eye. As I tried to pull it over the edge of the canoe we both realized it was way to long to do this sitting down so I stood up and wrestled it into the canoe. This is when my memory and pride was forever damaged. We both smiled big and whooped it up knowing we had won the tournament and I cockily grabbed that satanic pike by the eyes again and its mouth opened up and I reached in to unhook my plug. Well he let me stick my hand in his mouth and then clamped down on my hand like a pit bull. I squealed like a baby as it punchered my hand in ten places and he opened his mouth and I jerked back and he clamped down again. Before it was over he had done that repeatedly 4 times before I got my nub of hand out bleeding like a stuck pig. I threw him to the bottom of the boat and with all the gears damaged in my reel, and my pride completely gone, we both paddled our way back to camp. Needless to say we won the tournament but we also got the lesson of our lives. Never, Never, Never, stick your fingers into the eyes, or hand in the mouth, of an angry 20 lb pike.

I was 6 years old when my grandpa began taking me fishing with him. He would make me catch some kind of bait (either worms or grasshoppers) and then we would load the old chevy impala with poles hanging out the windows and off we would go. He would sit on his chair and doze while I was dreaming about all the fish I was going to catch. After about 5 minutes of no bite I was terrorizing the river bank. Every snake had a rock hurtling toward it and all frogs were on the hit list too. I knew I could catch a turtle and when all was lost I could skip rocks across the water.
A very muddy little boy wet from the shoeless feet up would come staggering back to grandpa a few hours later and with a twinkle in his eye he would start loading up his gear. He always had enough fish for supper and I always had the adventure of cleaning one fish. He was a brave man.
My Dad started taking me fishing when I was about 11 years old and He would also make me get some bait (always worms) and he would usually buy some minnows. Then after helping load the truck with equipment we would start our trip. He would sit on a piece of turf or on the old Johnboat seat (if we took the Johnboat) and he would holler and yell at me to sit still that I was disturbing the fish. Don't go in that water boy there's all kinds of snakes and other stuff that will get you. Leave them shoes on. If you don't set still you will never catch fish son.
My Grandpa and my Dad are both on the other side now and sometimes when I am on the water I relive those boyhood moments. Every now and then I will look at my son and say boy quit fidgeting around and remember a day when I was in his shoes. When I look at the horizon with a mist in my eyes (dang sun) I become a boy once again. No wonder I love to fish.
Thanks Grandpa for being patient. Thanks Dad for teaching patience. Wherever I am fishing as long as I live you guys will be a part of my life.

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I've done all the fishing I want to do, I'm into the catching.

Fish.on thats a good story. almost brought tears to my eyes when i read it and thought about the time spent with my grandpa and my uncle bill. all good stories. thanks everyone

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Be kind, go fishing and unwind.