Last Minute IBass, Swings, Misses, Stuff like That

[D.W. Verts]

So I had just a very few hours this evening to try to improve my UB IBass string for the month. And it's been a lousy month (September is the scourge of my bass fishin' existence) with once again little time to fish, plus these darn green things get FINICKY.

So I go to one of my little lakes, and because it's kinda warm there's beef in every corner, peein', poopin' and just doing what cows do when they're takin' a bath. And they're muddying up my fishin' hole. Bad. Again.

Well, it's no climb for a climber, especially when there's a competition going on, so I go to it.

Did I mention that September can be tough?

Three bites in an hour. And that was it. I figured that was all the time I needed to spend there, seein' how the pond was fishin' so small because of all the pee and the poop and the muddy cow-water.

The first bite was a good one, however. I was chunkin' a frog in the lily pads, and this girl announced herself big time- she humped up the water like the surf at Waikiki when she turned on the bait, then she EXPLODED on it maybe three seconds later. I thought I got her stuck. I was wrong. She chucked the bait into a lily pad stem and I had to go diggin'.

She was a bona-fide Great Old Good One, too. Seriously. She was one BIG bass. Darn.

Two bass come to the boat, both on a buzz bait. It's amazing- my smallest bass in the tourney is 18.25". I need to cull TWO of them. So the last few trips I've been PLAGUED with 18 and 18-1/4" fish. I guess that's a good problem to have, but dad gum- both of these fish are just about that. It's funny tho'- if I need a 19-1/2" bass, all I catch are 19" bass. Weird.

So I packed the kayak up and went to the next spot (and the last one, because it's now 4:30) to give it one last shot. This is my incredible shrinking pond that's still down almost three feet, and since I fished it last has become choked with slime to go with the milfoil and lily pads. So I take just one rod, and Mr. Frog goes to work for me.

And I immediately miss another big bass.

Not as big as the first one, but plenty big enough. I have about two hours to do this, and so far my IBass string isn't growing.

Several fish miss the bait in the next hour, and I do catch a couple of dinks. The slop is so thick that the bass just aren't gettin' any meat to go with their salad...

Then a ka-BOOSH, and I stick it to a beautiful and chunky l'il girl that MIGHT beat that 18.25". Maybe. So I string her up with about an hour or so to go.

Then comes another announcement. Big time. The water moves, pads fall to the side, and my frog comes to a stop where just a second before something big was happening. I let the little thing sit. Then I give it a twitch, and...

Nothin'. Dad gum.

Hmmm. So I give it another twitch, and Ms. GODZILLA comes unglued on the thing, only to throw about four pounds of spinach into the air. Wow.

A dozen more casts to the brand-new hole in the pads/grass/scum shows that this one had enough already, or has moved on to quieter climes.

And now comes the skeeters. I really haven't had a problem with them all year, but I suddenly am at war with them, and here I am in my shorty pants, too. With my bug spray in the truck.

So I spend maybe twenty minutes where I cast my frog, swat a skeeter. Twitch my frog, swat a skeeter. Repeat and do it all again. The dang pond is SWARMING with blood-suckin' parasites, and I realize that the kayak is now pointed towards the truck. I'm losing.

I figure I'll get a few casts in near the bank where I put in- it's choked with scum/pad/grass but it has relatively deep water right off the bank, so I'll make my last stand there before I need a freakin' blood donor.

As I paddle across the open water in the middle of the pond I spook a pretty nice fish. The swirl was, oh, maybe the size of a VW Rabbit's hood. That's what we call a "pretty nice fish" in these parts. Dang.

Then as I stop the kayak on the edge of the thick grass/pads/scum so I can cast my way in to the bank, a good bass goes ka-BOOSH behind me, again in the open water.

My Momma may have raised some fools, but that would have been my dear late brother and my crazy Colorado/Liberal sister. Me, I don't have to be told again.

So I turned the boat around, skeeters buzzin' and bitin' away, and fire a cast with my little frog out into the open water. Nothing. So I do it again. Nothing. A third cast. Same.

The freakin' skeeters have got the word out on me, and the brotherhood of long proboscis winged warriors are settling in for a fat boy buffet. Frankly, this ain't no fun any more.

One more cast, this time over to the left, maybe thirty feet past the edge of the pads/scum/grass. Twitch, twitch, twitch, and then, finally, ka-BOOSH!

I put the muscle to my Dobyns 734, the hooks go home, and THIS one isn't an eighteen incher. I crank, she pulls, I crank some more. And a small last minute change is made to my IBass standings-



The picture, looking into the sunset, really blows how beautiful she is. Dark, dark green. Sweet.



And here's my hero shot, with a smile just for you Rodney! And by the way- that other "little" four-pounder? She measured 18.25"...

I quit. That 6-1/2 pounder was my last cast. A good way to finish out the month, too. So there ya'll go. Peace.

Dale

[zippyduck]

I can't get enough of your stories. Keep em coming along with the big fish pics.

Sent from my SM-G920V using Tapatalk

[Oldfart9999]

Thanks for the smile Dale!!! Nice looking fatties there!!!
Rodney