SO LONG SUMMER VACATION

Summers are wonderful times for youngsters in school.  Lazy days, sleeping in and all the great joys of the hot summer months are a welcome reprieve from the structure of school and classes.  It's no wonder kids are wound up in May waiting for summer vacation.  It's even easier to understand how they dread going back in August, too. 

My boys, even despite this being their first year in high school, still like school for the most part.  But they both knew the 5:30 a.m. wake-up call would be MUCH earlier than the unscheduled one they'd enjoyed many days all summer that was at least three hours later.  So they thought an early wake-up call the day prior to their first day of school would be a start to get them "conditioned" to get up early.  And what better reason to get up at 5:30 a.m. to head to the lake for a fishing trip to celebrate the last day of summer vacation.

We were out the door at 6 a.m. and joining Brandon, Cody and I would be one of their friends, Riley.  Riley had been fishing with us a couple springs ago during the crappie spawn and he had a good time and we caught a lot of fish.  But he did pick up a temporary nickname that trip, "Squirrel," as he spent more time tangled up in the trees high above the water than he did fishing.  Fortunately for Riley this trip wouldn't involve any casting.  He'd never caught a channel catfish so I was anxious for him to get his first one.   

We were the first boat on the water as the sun was just easing up over the horizon.  Cody, recently outfitted with his Kansas Boater's Education card, chauffeured us across the lake to our destination.  After dropping a couple anchors and outfitting the boys with their rods and a fresh glob of Danny King's Catfish Punch bait I dumped the first few rations of chum over the side.  Riley wasn't impressed and just turned away when I offered him a little taste of the fermented grain.  Cody, as usual, gagged and spit when he caught a whiff.

It didn't take long for the catfish to like it, though.  Within the first 10 minutes Brandon had set the hook and landed a couple nice catfish in the 3-4 pound range.  I caught several, too.  Riley's and Cody's attention span, while initially good, began to wane over the next hour or so.  So I moved Riley up to my seat and handed him my rod.  Nearly on cue, a big fish took Riley's rod downward and I hollered for him to set the hook.

Riley's rod spent most of the first few minutes of the battle bent over and under the side of the boat.  Slowly and methodically, he worked the fish until it neared the surface and I netted his first catfish, a fat 7 pounder.  Brandon caught a similar-sized fish  during the battle for a nice double and both boys were pleased with their accomplishment.

Brandon had the hot hand most of the morning and he gives all the credit to his "lucky" hat.  He got it on a family trip to Bennett Springs State Park.  On our previous catfish outing, his hat's maiden voyage, he left it in the truck and never caught a fish in three hours.  I'm betting he never forgets it again.  Riley caught several more nice-sized channel cats and thought catfishing was cool, too.  While Cody had the hot hand the last trip, he apparently swapped places with his brother and only had one dinky cat for the day. 

We called it a day just before noon with 20 nice channel cats swimming in the livewell..  The boys, although munching on honey buns and drinking Dr. Pepper throughout the morning, were visualizing Wendy's cheeseburgers and fries on the ride home. 

In my book it was an excellent way to spend their last day before going back to school.  I think they thought so, too.  And when one of their teachers asks what they did on their summer vacation they'll have one recent, although aromatic, outdoor adventure that stands out!         

  

YOUTHFUL ENTHUSIASM

I can remember as a kid roaming the woods around Tuttle Creek Reservoir from dawn to dark.  Parents didn't worry then like they do now and the outdoors was a place to get lost as long as you knew your way home.  The discoveries, finds and experiences made lasting memories.  The things we could do, build and create were confined only by our imaginations.

My boys have had similar experiences growing up, although I keep much closer tabs on their whereabouts than my parents did me.  I tend to worry about them getting hurt or getting into a bad predicament and I'm much more protective.  I've tried to turn loose as they've gotten older and let them grow up and do things on their own.  But hard as I try I still want to help them out along the way.

A recent camping trip to Council Grove Reservoir found us getting plenty of rain and the lake rising.  I told Brandon and Cody and my nephew, Dylan, they should set a trotline from shore as the catfish would be hungry with all the run-off.  They readied the line and I helped them net shad and anchor the trotline, although they're plenty old enough now to do it all on their own.  I worried about them getting hooked, etc. 

The next morning after we returned from an enjoyable, although soggy squirrel hunt the boys were anxious to check the trotline.  I gave them instructions, a pair of pliers and a tub and sent them off into the lake with their life jackets securely fastened.  I watched as they checked many empty hooks until they got to deeper water.  Three nice channel catfish flopped and splashed as the boys relayed their success to those of us on shore with hollers and laughter.  It took them a while to get one of the fish off but between the three of them they finally managed to get him unhooked and into the tub.

They brought the tub to shore, proud of their catch and ready to show it off to sisters, parents and cousins.  After a couple photos the fish were released back into the lake.  They asked if they should rebait the hooks as they were all bare and I told them they weren't likely to catch anything during the day with the boat traffic and their swimming. 

But Cody decided that a ball of mud looked like tasty dough bait and he put a couple globs on the hooks at the end of the trotline unbeknownst to me.  That afternoon the kids were swimming and Brandon lifted up the end of the line to find another flopping, 3-pound channel cat that apparently decided Cody was right and ate the offering.

I wouldn't have thought it would work but kids don't know any better.  And sometimes you just have to back up and let them try as sooner or later they grow up and discover things for themselves.  If they fail, they still learn.  If they succeed, they just might discover they can catch a nice catfish on a glob of mud, too.

WHAT'S THAT SMELL?

There aren't too many anglers who would argue that the culinary tastes of channel catfish are a bit on the aromatic side.  Downright gut-wrenching might be a more accurate description.  The stuff they eat could gag a maggot. 

 

I can recall as a youngster exploring the banks of Milford Reservoir on a camping trip and finding a jar of something, but I didn't know what.  Being inquisitive I twisted the lid off and paid the price.  Turns out it was a jar of shad sides someone had left for days in the 100-degree sun and the build-up of gases caused the smelly goo to go everywhere.  Gagging and spitting I chucked the jar and its contents into the weeds.  Lesson learned.

 

But those same shad sides might cause the exact reaction to a channel catfish I get when I catch a whiff of the downwind side of an Outback Steakhouse.  My mouth waters and I bet his would, too, if he wasn't living in it.

 

And while it still baffles me that ANY manufacturer of ANY stinkbait has to put a disclaimer on the bucket that says "Not For Human Consumption," I have to admit I don't generally mind that smell.  In fact, I kind of like it and it elicits a pretty strong response whenever it hits me.

 

 

But my reaction isn't one of wanting to eat the stuff, but more from a sentimental and emotional perspective.  Over the last half-dozen years or so me and extended members of my family have had some wonderful catfishing expeditions on summertime camping trips.  I can crack the lid on a bucket of Danny Kings Catfish Punch Bait and almost see the smiles and hear the laughter from my three kids, niece, nephew, sister, mom and brother-in-law as they crank on a big ol' channel catfish.  The early morning wake-up calls have been worth it as the kids talk non-stop about the day's adventures and big ones that did or didn't get away.    

 

I guess I'm like Pavlov's dog, except my mind waters rather than my mouth.  That's okay and I know over time I'll want to hang on to those experiences.  Kids grow up and things change and I know I'll miss those fishing trips with my kids and family.  But the smell of stinkbait will always have a warm, albeit aromatic, place in my heart as a result and I hope those memories generated as a result of the smelly concoction never fade.