This bass came back on July 1, 2013 and tipped the scales at 5-10.

Well, sort of. Somewhere in that neighborhood at least.

You see, at that point in time I had never caught a six-pound bass. I had one over the seven-pound mark and another as close as you can get at 5-15, but the whole six-pound range had eluded me. So, when I saw this one surface as I battled it to the boat I sure thought that it could be the one.

And when I lipped it and pulled it aboard, I was feeling even better about obtaining the mark. A closer look and a highly calibrated sense of guesstimation fine-tuned over close to thirty years of handling bass told my brain that this catch had made the cut.

Then I put it on the scale.

As I released the bass and let gravity do its thing on my battery powered weighing device that is billed as accurate to within an ounce, it went completely haywire. Over six-pounds, under six-pounds, going blank, lighting up and randomly flashing various combinations of pixels that told me absolutely nothing. Frantically, I turned it off and on several times hoping to resolve its electronic funk but all to no avail.

What to do next ran through my head as I shot a few pictures and released the bass to fight again. A true moral and ethical dilemma in a pursuit rife with, well, fish stories. And this was the epitome of the fish story. Flying solo, no one to confirm the weight, the bass could be as big as I wanted it to be even with a photo as they often provide a fair amount of wiggle room. Just look at the eyebrow raising weights on some internet reports or chuckle at fish held to the camera at arm’s length in glossy publications and it’s apparent that fish stories are still alive and well.

Tempting, of course. Honest, not really. The cliché fisherman whispering in my ear said the fish was at least six pounds. My conscience hollered otherwise. While observing the electronic confusion that was the demise of my scale, it was a brief flash of a readout at 5-10 that stuck in my brain.

Two more shots of the catch in the interest of full disclosure and to help you make your own guesstimate

And 5-10 is what went into the log and the fishing report. Still looks like it could be six though, what do you think?

Oh yeah, here’s a 6-2 from 2017 that made the mark, an interesting fish story for another day (got a lifetime of ’em).  Moral of the story when comparing bass though is that I think I sold myself short on the 5-10.  Water under the bridge but still wonder every time I tell this story.

Talk to you later. Troy

 

Among the items in the tagline for the blog are “fun”, “family” and “foolishness.”

Check, check and check on this photo of my nephew, Bryar, and a giant s’more from several years ago.

Let’s run down that list starting with “fun.”

Fun is camping and we still kick it old school as we roll out the tents, cook over a fire and live out of coolers and picnic baskets. And, of course, those picnic baskets house the parts for the traditional campfire treat, the s’more.

Family is pretty much the crew that I run with almost exclusively and not only includes our bunch but also extended family as displayed below.  My folks often stop out and my siblings either join up for the trip or visit which means a whole batch of cousins in the youngest generation.

Foolishness comes with the territory when you can potentially have up to eight kids from ages six to sixteen around the campsite. And this giant s’more is right on target, although if I recall correctly those super-sized marshmallows were actually the brainchild of one of the “big kids.” My wife, Julie/Aunt Julie, is more than adept at enhancing the menu and initiating some silliness. She’s also prone to extending our family for these outings as our current record is taking six kids along for an overnight. Hey, we gotta bring two tents anyway, so why not fill ‘em up. Honestly, I used to view such an idea as daring, perhaps even bordering on that foolishness concept, but Julie’s got it all under control and it gets easier as the kids (and s’mores) get bigger.

Talk to you later. Troy

Today’s pic features a Victor #1 Long Spring trap and is one of several Blog Banner photos that pay homage to trapping. I’ve spent the last several months posting a weekly “Trapping Tuesday” item detailing trapline flashbacks dating back to 1973 but those submissions barely scratch the surface in regards to potential trapping posts.

This shot actually comes from a series of “how to” photos that I took back in 2011. That collection of pictures provided the visual accompaniment to a detailed description of making a coon set (a “set” is the specific technique and placement of a trap). That article was part of a series that I submitted during my time blogging at Heartland Outdoors covering three highly effective sets for the trapline. Perhaps someday I will revisit those postings as part of an expanded exploration of my trapping experiences.

For now, the Blog Banner pic above and some action shots from over the years below will have to suffice.

Shot from 1987 of me making a set

Dad in 2002 making a set along a “coon highway”

Plenty more Blog Banner pics headed your way daily along with an added bonus posting later today as we have our first submissions of 2018 for year five of our Top 5 fishing project. Good stuff, hope you’ll stop back in and talk to you later. Troy

Life changes when you become parent. Duh, right?

But no matter the prep and observation, when that first one comes along it’s a real eye opener. Scared for sure, even though you might not openly admit it.

So, what do you do?

Cross your fingers, do your best, provide, set a good example…and take ‘em fishing.

Our oldest, Helena, pictured above with a catch and a smile shows that we must be doing something right. Of course, now that she has hit the teenage mark, other interests supersede fishing and hints of independence provide glimpses of what lies ahead when Mom and Dad don’t call all the shots.

And just the other day I commented that the little girl casting beside me in the photo below is darn near as tall as her Mama. Just as pretty too. Bet her Mama can outfish her though.

Talk to you later. Troy