GETTIN' CHUMMY WITH IT

Catfish anglers are a unique bunch.  Many aren't fancy and there's not near the glitz and glamour of gear or gadgets associated with more "prestigious" species like bass or walleye.  But in the same breath catfish anglers are some of the most dedicated anglers out there.  Catfish remain near or at the top in angler preference so there's no doubt they're popular.

One technique catching on in recent years is chumming.  Long thought to be illegal by some, chumming involves placing an attractant in the water with hopes of attracting fish.  Some "chum holes" have fancy names like the "Hawg Trough" at Perry Reservoir.  Peak days may find dozens of boats in the same area.  Other reservoirs have their own and it can work on most any body of water.

I've been chumming for a few years now and enjoy it.  I was never a fan of sitting and watching lines but fishing from a boat we fish vertical, much like we do for walleye or crappie.  I like that approach and the smallest of "ticks" occasionally results in the biggest of fish. 

Rotten grain like soybeans, milo, wheat or corn are popular choices for chum.  Placed in a bucket covered with water for a few days in the summer will have your neighbors to the north crying foul.  Be careful when you take the lid off as the stench could gag a maggot.  But that's exactly what catfish love and I'd bet they'd come running if they had legs.

Some of my hardcore walleye friends laugh at me when I talk about catfishing.  But I often have nieces and nephews, my kids, neighbors and others in the boat when we chum.  It's a great way to catch a bunch of catfish.  Now is the perfect time of year to do it.  I went last Sunday and even on a slow day two buddies and I ended up with 14 nice channel catfish up to about 8 pounds.  It's a great, although somewhat smelly, way to enjoy the Kansas outdoors.

YOU CAN HAVE THIS RECORD

Typically, when talks turn to breaking records it's a good thing of sorts.  But in the case of the sweltering summer heat many Kansans have been experiencing I'd just as soon not drag this out any longer.  It's getting old and it's time for a change.

We've tied a record in south central Kansas with 46 days over 100 degrees.  That hasn't happened since 1980.  I've forgot about that summer and I would like to forget this one, too.  But all Mother Nature needs is the roaster on high for another five days and we break the all-time record that's stood since 1936.  

While it's never too hot to fish, this heat takes a toll on anglers.  If there's no breeze you can forget seeing me on an all-day fishing trip.  We like to go early and wrap things up by lunch or so.  Beyond that it's not much fun to me to sit and roast.

And even evening fishing can be brutally hot.  On several camping trips this summer the temperatures were still in the high 90's after the sun set.  That should be illegal.  Regardless, my two boys were down on the bank having success catching plenty of channel catfish fishing from shore.  But it just didn't seem right to see them drenched in sweat at 10 p.m.

It looks like by weekend's end we may have a shot at the 1936 record of hottest summer on record.  Fine, whatever, let's get it over with and get on with it.  It's time for fall.  Thank God we have a change of season in Kansas and I'm ready for it.  Bring on the ducks, a little frost, a morning when you can see your breath and let the leaves fall where they may. 

Now let's hope we don't set any records for most days below freezing.  I wouldn't be a fan of that record, either.  I'm good with average, run-of-the-mill temperatures and these are records I can do without.       
 

SHE THINKS WE'RE JUST FISHING

Trace Adkins' latest music video shows him and his youngest daughter, Trinity, fishing and the song is aptly titled "She Thinks We're Just Fishing."  Trace admits the song is about being a Dad and spending time with your children.  Fishing is just an avenue to do it.

I'm lost in her there holding that pink rod and reel...
I say Daddy loves you baby one more time...
And all this laughing, crying, smiling, dying here inside...
Is what I call living...
She ain't even thinking 'bout what's really going on right now...
But I guarantee this memory's a big'un...
And she thinks we're just fishing...

These are just a few lines of a song that hits really close to home.  My daughter, Ashley, was 2 1/2 years old when she caught her first fish and I remember it like it was yesterday.  Over the years we've been on many fishing trips together and they've all been special. 

But in just the blink of an eye she grew up.  Last weekend I moved her and a truckload of her stuff off to her first year of college.  I wonder where time went.  I miss her already and she's only been gone a few days.

Looking back I'm thankful we spent so much time together.  Those memories are tucked away and will always be there. I get choked up every time I hear Adkins' song now and Ashley teases me about it.  They're powerful words about the relationship between a daughter and a Dad.  I'm really glad we went fishing.     

SIBLING RIVALRY

Those with brothers or sisters growing up likely remember some form of sibling rivalry.  Kids today probably aren't too different in that they are often aware of what the other has be it tennis shoes, the particular size of a piece of pie to something as mundane as who gets to ride shotgun.  Sports makes for easy enough rivalries and you even see some of it outdoors hunting or fishing.

My twin 12-year-old boys aren't terribly competitive with one another.  There's plenty of sibling rivalry but it isn't over the top crazy.  They're generally pretty good kids who do well in school and mind my wife and I most of the time.  If they'd just learn to pick up after themselves there's a good chance we'll keep them.   

On our fishing trips they often keep track of (unlike where they left their shoes, homework, drink or television remote) the number of fish they catch.  They generally say it's just so they'll know, but in reality it's likely to see if they one-upped the other.  I guess even adult anglers fall into that category on occasion.   

If I'm lucky, the fishing is good enough they lose track.  It's easy to keep tabs on a handful of fish but much harder to mentally tally 30 or 40.  If they lose track much of the individual rivalry is gone and the focus becomes the fishing.  Such was the case on the first trip to a new pond earlier this summer.

A friend got us permission to fish and the landowners were gracious hosts.  We got to the pond with a few hours of daylight remaining.  The boys waded the shallows and each cast a spinnerbait.  We fished quite a while before they got any kind of pattern going and then the action heated up as they learned to discern a bite from moss.  As the sun set, each boy was catching bass in several year-class sizes almost on every cast.  It was fun to watch and I'm guessing they caught 50-60 bass between them  It was a beautiful night regardless the tally and fish up to nearly 4 pounds will live in their memory banks for a long time.

The boys caught plenty of bass.  They chattered non-stop on the way home about how much fun they'd had, their nearly-bloody thumbs and the ones that got away.  The sibling rivalry was ALMOST forgotten.  But since they couldn't argue numbers, talk turned to the BIGGEST fish of the evening.  "My bass could eat your bass!" one said jokingly.

I guess boys will always be boys and sibling rivalry, in one form or another, is alive and well!   

MINNOW SMACKDOWN

I love fishing for crappie.  I love the thump and I love how they taste.  There's not much I don't like about pursuing a tasty slab.  Over the years I'd consider myself a jig fisherman, but really have no qualms about using live bait either.  And in the summertime minnows just might be the ticket to loading a boat with lots of crappie.

I got to know Eric Sher through another crappie story on spider rigging I did with Nick Neff.  Both are avid crappie anglers and there's no shortage of slabs in either of their boats.  During the summer, Eric has been using quite a few minnows and done REALLY well.  A couple Saturdays ago Eric was kind enough to invite me along for a fishing trip to Melvern Reservoir for a little experiment I had in mind.

Eric would use minnows while I would use nothing but a jig.  We'd try the straight-up debate to see whether live bait could outfish a jig.  While I'm not the best jig fisherman, I'm no slouch, either.  But on this day I'd quickly discover just how productive the real thing can be.

Only 30 minutes into the first brush pile my destiny was set.  Eric had caught 25 fish with four of these longer than the reservoir's 10-inch minimum length limit.  Me?  I caught four fish with two keepers.  But the kicker was that I was getting as many, or even more, hits on my jig.  The fish just weren't sucking in or holding on to my offering.  But once they gummed Eric's minnow, they were generally coming to the boat.

Eric Sher and the "Minnows Rule!" experiment.

The next few hours provided more of the same.  Eric caught tons of fish, most of which were shorts, but the minnows were definitely producing more fish.  When the dust settled after about five hours of fishing Eric had tallied 111 total fish with 13 keepers.  I caught 31 fish with eight keepers.  My only accolade of the day was I had two of the three largest fish. 

But to show you our little experiment wasn't REALLY scientifically accurate, Eric called on my way home and said we actually had 26 fish in the livewell, rather than our mentally-tallied 21.  We laughed about our mistake realizing it's really hard to keep track of fast fishing.  I imagine most of the "extra" keepers were Eric's since he had the most reason for confusion due to his sheer numbers.  I told him he had to throw the jig guy at least one bone and let me claim one additional keeper.

It was a neat experiment on a beautiful morning.  Eric was a gracious host and didn't even brag about whipping my tail.  There's no doubt minnows can catch fish and I won't be ashamed to grab a few for future summer trips. 

DECISIONS, DECISIONS

I love catching fish...period.  Sure, I have my favorites but for a relaxing day on the water I really don't care too much what is pulling back from beneath the water's surface.  Consistent action is tough to beat and when you have to make a choice as to which species to chase it makes matters more difficult.

A friend of mine, Jim Bybee, invited me to El Dorado Reservoir last night.  Bybee is a jig-fishing machine and there aren't many more adept with a jig pole.  But in addition to crappie, Bybee and his friends had been catching some nice white bass, too.  Thus, the dilemma of what to pursue. 

Jim's son, Cody, a fishing chip off the old block himself, loves to catch white bass so that's where we started.  Jigging spoons  in 18-25 feet of water were the ticket and we caught quite a few, plus a bunch of 4-6-inch white perch which we all hated to see.  Cody had evening plans so we had to run him back to the ramp after an hour or so. 

Pulling back out into the lake Jim asked if I wanted to try some crappie.  I like catching white bass but I had some new fish breading I was anxious to try and crappie are perfect for most any eating experiment. 

We found some really nice crappie in 21-24 feet of water.  Just as we got a pattern going the northerly winds increased in intensity as the front approached and storms started to build.  Fishing a 1/8-ounce jig in water that deep in high winds is difficult at best.  But we stayed with it and before long had a nice mess of 20-25 crappie.  Nearly all of them were between 12 and 14 1/2 inches.

We called it an evening as the sun started to set. We wondered aloud "what if" had the wind stayed calm. That just gives us more incentive to plan another trip in the future. But the white bass might have to wait their turn after seeing some of those slabs flopping on the surface! They'll look the same way in some hot grease....tasty!

FEEDING FRENZY

Late summer can be a tough time to catch fish.  Shad are just bite-sized right now providing a virtual swim-by buffet for most any species of predatory fish.  But anglers willing to take advantage of this feeding frenzy are often rewarded with plenty of action.  Such was the case this past weekend on our camping trip to Marion Reservoir.

My boys and I tried for some catfish on the usual catfish chum holes to no avail.  It didn't seem like much was going on so by mid-morning I was itching to try something different.  We decided to pull some spinners in an attempt to catch some walleye.

And although we would eventually catch some walleye, they were beaten to the punch almost each and every time by hungry white bass.  Each boy had nice whites on nearly immediately on the first drop and the action would slow the shallower I got.  Each trip back out to our starting point produced bunches of fish on spinner rigs designed for walleye but apparently just as tasty to white bass.

Despite what some may say, I'm no dummy and told the boys we should try spooning and casting to these white bass on the start of our run.  I hit the anchor lock on my I-Pilot trolling motor and rigged up three poles.  Two had Cicada spoons on them while the other had a 1/4-ounce jig with a SuperFluke, Jr.  Figuring the spoons would be more productive, I gave those to the boys.  But on Brandon's first cast he got a big tangle in his rod so I gave him my rod rigged with the Fluke, Jr.  I'd never get it back.

Brandon caught a fish on the very first cast on it.  And Cody was right there with him.  Numerous times they had doubles, and when I was fishing, even triples.  The action was steady and non-stop.  Each fish brought into the boat was a flopping, wiggling, squirming mess.  In the midst of the their tantrums they'd fling regurgitated shad all over the place.

I reasoned that a big school of whites ranging in size from 8 inches to nearly 2 pounds were feasting on shad pushed into the side of a break in about 7 feet of water.  A stiff breeze was blowing in making the fishing good and the 105 degree day tolerable.  Over the next couple hours, we figured we caught well over 100 white bass of all sizes, both casting and fishing vertically.  All were pitched back into the water and many left me a tip for my generosity in the form of half-eaten shad. 

By about 12:30 p.m., I was ready to go despite the boys pleas to stay longer.  I wasn't hot, or tired or bored.  I was hungry!  With two, little 12-year-old chow-hounds in the boat they had eaten everything we had for breakfast and never saved Dad a crumb.  A box of honey buns, crackers, you name it, GONE!  They reminded me of a big school of white bass on a feeding frenzy!

But the boys knew we'd be back out.  And despite their annihilation of my breakfast goodies, they admitted they could probably eat a little something, too!  However, they were kind enough not to fling any regurgitated honey buns around in my boat.  And that's a good thing!