Thread: It's all in the minnows

This Cataract problem that Tom and I are having at the Cat just won’t quit. We thought we might have had it figured out, we thought that we had the spot figured out, we thought we had everything going our way. Nothing seemed to help. Trying to beat the “Sinister” Knoy and “The Hooser Brothers” seems to be a feat that none of us at the Thursday tourneys seems to be able to get a grip on. I know it is not just us. There are others out there that come up to us with their tails tucked between their legs and want to know what it takes to beat this unbelievable team of pure, unadulterated “fishing power.” Some have even asked if they could use dynamite? If it were not for a few little rules that the club follows and some law in the state of Indiana that says one can not use dynamite, I would say go for it, but rules are rules.

Tom and I have brought in a new partner. Minnow Fred, we wanted to match the “FISHING MACHINE” in every way. Hook for hook, pole for pole, man for man. That plan doesn’t work. We just stumble over each other. As of now we are not a well oiled machine. Then Minnow Fred came up with a plan. At first it seemed far out there, but then it started to sound good. So we set his plan in motion. We arose from bed fifteen minutes early so that we could get to the bait shop that the Hooser and Knoy team use to purchase their minnows. We wanted to be the first customers there. And first we were, as the owner just got there to unlock the door we were in line anticipating how the plan would go down. Minnow Fred yells out “We need minnows.” The proprietor of the shop went to the minner tank and started to dip us up two dozen minners. This is where Minnow Fred’s plan comes into effect. Fred tells the owner to stop. We don’t want just any minnow, we want the best that he had. For the next twenty minutes, Fred hand picked twenty four of the best looking minnows in that tank. Each one had to meet a strict standard before Fred would let them into the bucket. It was kind of cute to watch him hold them little fellows up and look under their little fins. Now what he was looking for you will have to ask Fred, but when he was done we had two dozen of the leanest, meanest, fighting minnows known to man. We were set. We were going to beat this relentless team known as the Cataract Fishing Machine. Off to our spot we go. We fish and fish and catch some nice ones. In the back of each of our minds we knew we had it won. Neither one of us wanted to say anything for fear of cursing the tourney. It was time for the weigh in. Our team had a weight of three pounds, twelve ounces. Pretty good for August, we thought. Then the Machines came in. Their weight was over five and a half pounds. How could this be? What went wrong? We had the best, most active, strongest minnows one could get. So off to the Fishing Machines boat we go, with our tails tucked. Mr. Knoy, Mr. Hooser may we ask what it was this week that you did to beat us again. Sure Al we will tell you. It started out slow but we figured out the crappie wanted DEAD MINNOWS. Go figure.

crappie want Chartreuse minnows the chewy ones...