Let me set the scene for you. My good neighbor Tommy Dunn and I decided to go catch some catfish off the rock bank below Eggner Ferry Bridge.
Tommy and I drove to Kentucky Lake and parked at the Fenton area, then walked a quarter-mile down the road to get to the end of the riffraff and start fishing. We were fishing on the south side of the bridge. Keep in mind, now, that there is at least a quarter-mile, if not more, of rock bank that leads up all the way to the bridge.
Tommy and I were standing about four to five feet apart as we were fishing. We were close enough to talk, but far enough apart that we wouldn’t tangle up in each other’s lines. We had Kentucky Lake to ourselves that bright June day.
We fished for about an hour or so and hadn’t really had a nibble. Not a bite. Then, it happened.
Tommy and I began to hear a sort of a racket. We looked over our shoulders, and we saw a man and woman in their 50s ambling down the bank from the road toward the water. They continued down toward Tommy and I as we continued to keep an eye on the water and an eye on them, and unbelievably, with a mile of rock to fish on, they walked right up behind us. We were stunned.
Then, the man, steps right between Tommy and I, almost touching our shoulders, and casts his line. It was bizzarre. With all thar room to fish, hundreds of yards of shoreline and bank, the man steps between Tommy and I. I took a look at Tommy and could see that he was just about to say something. Throwing the man in the lake had crossed Tommy’s mind.
Just as we were about to say something to this weird dude, something else caught our attention. His wife had proceeded to make a racket. This woman had flanked me and moved around to my left, just a few feet away from me. She was making more noise than a herd of turtles in a China shop.
As we watched the woman closely, she proceeded to bait her hook with a gob of chicken livers big enough to feed the Hatfields and McCoys at a Sunday sit-down dinner. The chicken livers were about the size of a small pumpkin. By this time, Tommy and I were more amused and confused than we were angry over the intrusion into our fishing spot.
Well, the woman had so many livers on her line that her rod was bent over like it had a giant river monster on it. She couldn’t cast it, so she just hit the release button on her reel and dropped the livers straight down in front of her feet.
I said to myself, this woman has absolutely no clue. A fish would never bite such a glob of bait, and if it did, it wouldn’t be able to find a hook somewhere in the middle of it.
Let me tell you how the story ends. Those livers had been in the water for about 30 seconds. At that point, there was a major swirl in the water, and something just about jerked the rod and reel out of her hands. She then proceeded to make more noise than she’d made to that point in their brief outing. In a snap, she pulled in a three-pound smallmouth bass, one of the most beautiful fish in Kentucky Lake.
By this point, Tommy and I didn’t really know what to think. The whole ordeal confirmed one thing – when it comes to fishing, you never know.
By the way, as it turned out, as we began to talk to the couple, Tommy actually knew them. They were from Hopkinsville and lived in Trigg County at one point. So all you loyal readers out there, remember a couple of things – give your fellow fishermen plenty of elbow room, and you can never use too many chicken livers.
Enthusiasm Makes the Difference
Mike Wright is the head coach of boys basketball and cross country at Trigg County High School. Emails concerning Coach’s Corner can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.