I have been struggling finding some lightweight hunting pants. Either they are not the brand I prefer, or they are too noisy, or the material is too rough, and I could go on and on and on. My recent travels through South Louisiana took me by a multitude of hunting shops that had everything the sportsman could ask for except, you guessed it, lightweight hunting pants. I have stopped counting at six stores visited, but I must continue searching. The rifle and bow are zeroed in. I’m 95% packed for my trips out west. Binocular batteries have been replaced with new ones. Flashlights, several, are tucked away in the duffle bag, along with hand warmers, knives, licenses, scent bombs, and everything else deemed necessary for the hunt. Oh, I’ll put the finishing touches on everything as my depart date nears. So, what should I do now? I know, I’ll go fishing!
My turkey hunting days each spring can just about be counted on one hand. Business, lawn treatments, and crop checking, keep me handcuffed and have for many years. Oh, I get enough days in to be “somewhat” successful, but my time in the spring woods is pale in comparison to those times when I wouldn’t miss a day turkey hunting. I’m not kidding either. But that was then, and this is now.
As few days as I get to softly cluck to a gobbler on the limb, I spend even fewer days in a boat. To be precise, I have been fishing three times in the last eight years. Is this pathetic or what? The old adage that you’ll never have time to do anything unless you make time has more merit than you think. The days of pitching topwater plugs around the base of cypress trees with the anticipation of enticing a largemouth bass to explode through the surface and engulf my devil’s horse have been long gone. I can’t remember the last time I ran out of crickets, leaving a bed full of hungry bull bluegills. The trotlines haven’t been run in over 40 years. But all this changed last week.
My buddy Sam and I booked a crappie fishing trip last week with world renowned fisherman, Hayden Jeffries. Before I get into the details of what occurred on the Rez, I must go back in time and tell a story. I had a couple fishing buddies that I went to high school with, Danny Ray Beard, and Danny Lee Jeffries. We spent hours and hours together wading creeks, stalking farm ponds, and carousing the rocks below the dam at the spillway on Ross Barnett. Many times, during spring break, the spillway was flooded, and the crappie fishing, catfish fishing, and bass fishing was epic. We used to bring heavy stringers up the rip rap to our coolers. But again, that was then, and this is now.
I was wondering if Hayden was related to Danny and as soon as I stepped into his boat, our conversation began. Ironically, Hayden’s father is also named Dan, but the Danny I was referring to happens to be his uncle. Aren’t you glad I have covered the Jeffries family tree? Now, lets drop a bait into the lake.
Sam and I took turns sitting next to Hayden, who was reading the screen on the live scope. I won’t get into details, but this is an instrument that will show structure, creek channels, and fish. Enough of that though. Only one “pole” was used and before we got started Hayden asked if we were “trophy” hunting or meat catching. I haven’t had fried crappie all year so I bet you can guess what the answer was. Hayden would help us spot a fish, as we would gently drop the jig just in front and above of a suspended slab. Many times, we would be right on top of the fish and the perch still refused to take the bait. This reinforces the point that just because you can find em, doesn’t mean they’re going in the cooler. I was simply amazed. The action picked up quickly.
Sam would catch three, then I would catch three. I chuckled as Sam, on several occasions lost count, and would say, “that’s only two.” Get up Sam, I’m pretty good at math. Hayden laughed continuously as we would trick those “filets to be” to the jig. It got fast and furious to the point where we didn’t even have time to scoff our chicken biscuit down. With each fish netted, you could hear the telltale “click” of the counter Hayden had in his right hand. When I say the bite was on, I mean it was really on. It didn’t take but a few hours before the clicker hit 60. That’s right, we had both caught our limit before 11 a.m. and we didn’t even get on the lake until around 8 that morning. Of course, by law, guides can’t keep fish when conducting business, so we were done for the day.
We had a few fish that topped the two pound mark. For those of you that don’t know crappie, that’s a big one. In fact, we had a few more over that that we released. Those bigger fish are prolific when it comes to reproducing so we returned them to the water to keep the resource strong. Remember, we were in search of those specimens for table fare, so those one and the fourth pounders were our main target. Would you believe that some of these fish were beginning to develop eggs for the upcoming spring spawn? I’m not a fisheries biologist, but I thought it was odd for eggs to be developed this early with the main spawn five or six months away. Another research project was born, and I will be speaking with those well-versed in the subject soon.
I can’t even begin to tell you how many fish we saw. To say they were thick, is an understatement. Before I wrote this article, I did ask Hayden if it would be ok for me to include his name in my writing. I got his blessing, but I laughed when Sam said, “don’t say too much, we’ll never be able to get to go with him again.” I clarified that too, so we still have our name on the books for a repeat, hopefully soon. Now for another visit back in time.
Hayden gave me his uncle’s number, Danny Lee, and I called him shortly after our trip. He answered after the first ring, and I played a little game. I started by saying “you don’t know who this is, but do you remember a fellow that lost a bass below the spillway that was probably over 10 pounds? He said, “how you doing, Jeff North? Heh, he had already gotten my number. I told him about our trip with Hayden and remarked on how professional and polite he is. It was yes sir, and no sir, all morning long. Quiet in nature, this young fisherman has figured it out. He’s doing well in his business, and the respect he gives to the resource is unprecedented. Danny and I told and retold stories of our fishing excursions together back in high school. I can’t believe it has been almost 50 years since we set the hook on a lunker together. This MUST change and I will see to it that it does.
Thank you for a wonderful trip, Hayden. I truly enjoyed the experience while sitting next to you in your boat. Though the filets will be enjoyed at each fish fry, the knowledge you shared about the crappie and the intrinsic details of this wonderful gamefish will forever remain in my gray matter. Please keep us on your ledger for another trip, and if you have a cancellation, give us a call. On another note, I’ll find a time for all of us to get together and tell some stories of our fishing trips together long ago with your uncle. Who knows, we might even know where we could get some fish to fry. Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, lets leave it better than we found it.
