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Saturday, Zane, our grandson, asked if he could come over and spend the night. Of course we said yes. Damon dropped him off in the middle of the afternoon as I was getting ready to build shelves in the entryway closet. He suggested we go fishing instead. As much as I like to build shelves, I could hardly disappoint my grandson. He had already asked his grandmother, more commonly known as Nanna. He knows she is a soft touch. Whatever Zane wants is usually OK, and fishing is a good idea just about anytime.

Zane and I were rigged for big bass while Nanna, being the more practical one in the group, put on a crappie lure. We do not eat the big bass, but we eat any crappie that will make a fillet. We motored out toward the island where the bass lay next to the shore and the crappie school in the deep adjacent water. Zane cast his big green minnow toward the shore and it was hit immediately. He pulled in an eighteen inch catfish. He was excited about his catch and wanted to catch some more. I explained a person cannot catch catfish on a bass lure. It is hard to convince an eight year old you are telling the truth when he has just done what you say cannot happen. Nanna started catching crappie while Zane and I were having no luck. Zane continued to try for catfish on his bass lure long after I had switched lures and was helping add to the fish for dinner collection.

It was starting to get dark when we motored across the quiet lake to the dock. Zane and I cleaned our fish while Nanna started dinner. We decided, fish would keep for lunch tomorrow and we could feast on hot dogs tonight. I personally did not vote for that choice, but my vote does not always count.

Sunday morning, I was sitting on the porch, enjoying the early morning quiet and a cup of coffee when Zane appeared, wiping the sleep from his eyes. His first words were, "Let's go fishing, Grandpa." A man after my own heart. His Nanna came out a minute later and politely declined. She said she would watch for us and start breakfast when we were coming in off the lake.

Zane and I started at the place he caught his catfish. He said he was fishing for bass, but I knew better. We did catch a couple small bass and released them. I finally convinced him we should fish up by the old cottonwood tree. Big bass and catfish hide around and under the fallen submerged limbs. Things were fairly slow at first but a three pound bass grabbed his shiny green lure and ran. He fought it up and released it. Next I caught a bass I would guess to be five pounds. I worked it up to the edge of the boat and reached for it just as it flipped to escape. My brand new eight pound test line snapped and my fish and lure were gone. While working to tie on a new lure, Zane yelled, "I got a fish on!" Since we were only ten feet apart and he has caught many fish, for him to be yelling indicated something special. I looked up to see his fishing rod bent over double. The drag, which I had set very high, was letting out line faster than Zane could reel. The fish made a run for the trees but Zane was able to make it turn back toward the boat. It swam toward my end of the boat and I could just make out the huge mouth and fat belly of an enormous bass when it turned. It appeared to be at least twice the size of the fish I had just lost. Zane was frantically cranking on his reel when the fish dove under the boat and his line snapped.

Nanna watched us returning to the dock and had breakfast well underway when we got to the house. We had time for one more fishing trip and lunch of crappie and one catfish before Damon came to take his son home. We did have a good meal of the ones we caught and great stories to tell about the ones that got away.[[In-content Ad]]

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