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HAS ANOTHER YEAR REALLY COME AND GONE?
By Steve McCadams
Are you somewhat surprised at just how fast the year went? Most of us
older folks sure are. Seems like just yesterday we were discussing the
same subject when we gathered around bait and tackle shops, coffee
tables at a local restaurants or in passing down an isle at the grocery.
Evaluating the past year’s fishing and hunting exploits is all part of
the year end summary for most sportsmen, regardless of their age. Yet
the older you get the more one’s opinions are expressed in detail with a
dab of doubt about what the year ahead will bring.
For scores of older folks the past is where the best fishing and hunting
stories took place. There’s a lot of truth to that thought and for
several reasons. The older generations likely saw the “golden years” in
the outdoors to a large degree.
I relish conversations with the older generation as they relive fond
memories of a time when fish and game was plentiful as were the
opportunities. In summary, fish and wildlife was somewhat abundant and
the crowded public hunting areas and increased fishing pressure was
still yet to come.
When these outdoorsmen spin yarns of yesteryear and discuss in detail
the infancy of Kentucky Lake where stickups harboring hefty
crappie and bass were rampart; coveys of bobwhite quail roamed the
countryside and their whistles were as much a part of the fabric of the
South as honeysuckle itself; and ducks were really here in big numbers
during the winter.
Often I fall under the spell of old timers crafting their memories into
stories. From gray haired gentlemen with wrinkled hands and somewhat
foggy notions on the operation of modern day gadgets come crystal clear
recall of decades old days in the field.
Listen closely and you’ll feel the warmth of such an old weasel as his
eyes light up and the resonance in his voice deepens when discussing a
couple of his old birds dogs on point.
Love and appreciation from an old man recalling younger days as he
walked up behind ole’ Snowball and Rip staunch on point at the edge of
the broom sedge and sumac. His feeble legs and trembling hands suddenly
fill with vim and vigor as just the recall of such days chase away the
aging factor if only for a brief moment.
Even if it was before my time I feel the rush he felt. My heart almost
stops when the covey flushes; the roar having consumed me as wild birds
take flight and scatter at the blink of an eye.
Pull up a chair and do yourself and an old timer a favor. Slowly turn
back the hands of time and prize away at the memory bank before you as
his likes, just like the whistle of bobwhites, will soon fade away and
you’ll wonder where it went, just like the year’s passing.
Visit an old fisherman and his treasure chest of memories tucked away in
a distant closet or dark garage where resting on nails or sleeping on
forgotten shelves lie weathered cane poles, rusty reels and tackle boxes
of relics.
He may be reluctant to disturb the stuff from its final resting place.
Sometimes the stories of stringers full of fish and friends who shared
the boat are tough to rekindle.
Sleeping quietly in the trays of heavy old metal tackle boxes are
stories waiting to be told. Glass eyed wooden Lucky #13’s and hand
crafted River Runts from the Heddon Lure Company show talented
workmanship from a different era.
Lures that once fooled scores of white bass and largemouth may be
sporting rusty hooks but there was a time when the gifted lures and the
angler using them shared sunrises and sunsets on placid waters.
Blow a little dust off and beneath lies unique fishing stories of big
ones caught and big ones that got away. Ask the elderly statesman about
how to cast the old Shakespeare President or Pflueger Summit baitcaster
still sporting braided line and gently place it in his hand.
There might even be an antique Houser Hell Diver, the original
spinnerbait with a big spoon blade, still tied on a hex steel rod.
Travel back in time with this old anglers who walked the banks of
creeks, ponds and perhaps the shores of a newly formed Kentucky Lake.
It was a sweet time in some ways. Modern day fishermen would see it as
antique equipment used by antique anglers. Little do they know it was a
heyday in the infancy of both fishermen and tackle manufacturers.
It’s fair to say anglers of yesteryear used their wits and wisdom a bit
more to find and catch fish.
Open the trays of old tackle boxes and a simpler lifestyle and time
emerges. Real cork bobbers and porcupine quills tell the tale of slab
crappie and big bull bream jerking the float out of sight around a buck
bush or stump.
Some things never go out of style. Bobbers disappearing, ducks downwind
with cupped wings and bird dogs on point quickly come to mind.
Fishing knows no boundaries as to age limits. Whether one is 8 years of
age or 88; fish still provide a tug of joy to whoever’s on the other end
of the pole.
Sometimes a glance toward the wall where a taxidermist’s efforts have
helped preserve a great fishing trip will help relive that special day
when the tackle tester shook hands with a young fisherman who now tells
the story to one with yearning ears.
A frail body might be unable to set the hook nowadays but that doesn’t
stop him from recalling the day when the lunker fell prey to his
presentation and produced a lifelong memory now being relived through
both the old timer story teller to the young fishing wannabe.
Time and tide wait for no man.
Soon the one listening to the story will trade seats, finding himself in
the front porch swing or park bench wondering where the years went as a
prying youngster begs for details about old fishing poles, shotguns,
duck calls and more about his old days in the outdoors.
My how the year has passed so quickly. In our youth the days and months
were slow to arrive. With age the hands of time have speeded up.
Seems like just yesterday we had the same conversation but truth is,
another year has come and gone! Ever wondered where it went?
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