Drop Fishing and Cat Fishing

When I was in high school, I and Klingledingle used to go over to our friend Dave Nolastname's (at last check, he was in Air Force special operations) house and we would fish for catfish in the family pond. We never caught any, but it was a convenient excuse to stay out late at night. I have often reminisced with friends and family about how much I enjoyed those opportunities.

The first time we headed out to the pond, we got out the family Jon boat and headed out to the middle. We weren't targeting any specific species. More than anything, we just wanted to get the boat out. Anyway, we had been fishing for about an hour, and not even had a strike.

Dave was using his dad's rod-and-well, which cost a couple hundred dollars even twenty years ago. He started goofing off, and all of sudden, the rod went in the water with a loud splash. I don't remember how deep it was, but it was well over our heads and we definitely couldn't see the bottom. Dave turned towards me in complete astonishment, the blood gone from his face, eyes like a deer. Without saying anything, he just rolled out of the boat and disappeared beneath the water.

About twenty seconds passed, and Dave broke the surface, rod in hand. He passed it to me so he could climb back in the boat, never making a sound. He was grinning from ear-to-ear when I passed the rod back to him and he began retrieving the line. What do you know? There was a fish on the end! All we could do was laugh hysterically. We didn't catch anything else that day.

From then on, whenever we would see one another, we would talk about drop fishing. It had been a bonding moment for us.

Today, the Chief and I headed over to the same pond for a few hours of fishing. It was finally a really good day for him, as he landed 14 fish, all with flies that had been tied at home. We hadn't been on the pond ten minutes when he caught his first bluegill. I seemed like all he had to do was drop the fly in the water and he would get a strike.

I was happy for him, even though I wasn't getting anything. My goals today were simple: use only flies I had tied and actually target specific species, starting with bass.

It rained last night, and the weather has finally dropped below 90. It's a big pond, and I thought that might be enough to stir up any bass. I learned how to tie a Muddler Minnow last night, so I started with it. I found what I thought would be a pretty good spot, and began casting. The wind was in my face, but I have reached the point now where that is not nearly as much of a nuisance. The water was too hot though, and here I was fishing almost on the surface.

So I switch to a chartreuse-and-white Clouser Deep Minnow that I tied last night. D had once seen on a fishing show that any color was good for a lure as long as it was chartreuse, and so during a visit yesterday to Bass Pro Shops, I purchased some chartreuse buck tail, just for this Clouser. I had some strikes immediately, but didn't manage to set the hook.

Then all of a sudden, I felt a strike, stripped some line to set the hook, and then realized I had a good fish. I began retrieving, and it was fighting hard, which convince me that I must have landed a decent-sized bass.  The water was really muddy, and I didn't see the fish until I raised the head above the water, realizing it was actually a sixteen-inch channel cat.

The Chief didn't believe me when I hollered out, so I had to walk it over and show him. He said it was hard for him to believe that you could catch cats with a fly rod, but I told him as I have several times, some people specifically fish for cats with fly rods. Nevertheless, it was a nice sized fish, and he was a bit jealous.

Well, he moved to the other side of the pond, and I tied on a chartreuse Woolly Bugger. It wasn't long before I caught a bluegill, and he caught a catfish of his own. That's when he started really getting covered up in bluegill, landing one every five minutes it seemed.

I then switched to a bead head Prince Nymph which I also tied last night, and that was worth three bluegill for me. I finally switched to a traditional Prince and pulled in a six-inch smallmouth. After that, I was pretty much done for the day, spending about ten minutes working a popper.

It was a good day. I finally drew a catfish from that pond after twenty years, and I didn't use anything I had not tied. Dad didn't use anything that was tied by him or me either. As we were getting in the truck to leave, he said, "You know, I don't think we are ever going to have to buy another fly." All I could do was agree.