On a recent dreary, windblown day, I sat in the bow of my boat, one foot on the power pedal of the electric trolling motor, seriously thinking about returning home to rake leaves and fertilize a lawn instead of staying in the tidal creek near my home. Thankfully, that thought quickly vanished when I felt the tiniest shaking of the rod tip. Something was pecking at a 2-inch-long artificial grub at the end of my line.
As fast as a man who’s old enough to be a grandfather can lift a rod upward to set the hook, I gave it my best shot, but my still unseen adversary pulled the rod back down with surprising speed and strength. That’s where it stayed for a while, the fish pulling line from the reel almost at will, and me hoping the very thin braid on the reel wouldn’t snap. It was the fear of breaking the line that allowed the fish to have its way at least for a few minutes.
My spinning rod with the ⅛-ounce jig hook and the scented, chartreuse Gulp! grub had doubled over, soon being pulled under the boat, with me frantically trying to coax whatever creature it was out back into open water where I might be able to retrieve a few feet of line.
I succeeded and then caught a glimpse. It was a fat catfish of perhaps 6 pounds, probably a white catfish, a species that shows up to spawn now and then in the tidal feeder creeks of the Potomac River. Most anglers who hook one of these very aggressive characters that is willing to grab any artificial lure probably believe it to be a channel catfish. In fact, I wasn’t totally sure myself, but my fish was devoid of spots, and its skin wasn’t as darkly olive as channel cats usually are.
My whiskered opponent fought a good battle, but thanks to being able to maneuver around with the trolling motor and follow it when necessary the powerful fish eventually came to the net. As soon as it reposed inside the landing net, it was decided that it should provide our family a sumptuous dinner. White or channel catfish are delicious. Not only that, of every hundred fish outings I keep enough for dinner only three or four times. End of that story.
But as far as catches of delightful and delectable catfish of any type are concerned, may the story never end because these barbled creatures are the source of never-ending surprises. My respect for them grows with every encounter.
Besides hooking catfish with conventional weighted bottom rigs that consist of high-low snelled hooks, strong line, stout rods, and bait that can range from clam necks to beef liver strips, I’ve caught blue catfish during broad daylight in the Potomac with casting gear and Rat-L-Trap lures in water that was less than 10 feet deep. This is the same species that most fishermen believe must be fed large chunks of baitfish in deep water during the dark hours, using heavy sinkers and rods as thick as broom handles. Indeed, catfish become more active when the sun goes down, and bait might be the way to go then.
But I also have seen days when I’ve hooked channel catfish while casting a shad dart under a bobber while searching for big bluegills or perch. You tell me what kind of nourishment a 5- or 6-pound catfish thinks it can get from a 1/32-ounce lure.
And what about catfish that absolutely smash a topwater lure cast onto shallow water and intended for largemouth or smallmouth bass? It has happened on a number of occasions in mountain rivers and in brackish streams.
So when someone makes disparaging remarks about the “lowly” catfish, don’t listen. These whiskered battlers have saved many a fishing trip when other species were targeted but not found.
• Look for Gene Mueller’s Outdoors column every Sunday, Wednesday and Thursday, only in The Washington Times. E-mail: gmueller@washingtontimes.com
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