A Site for Grandpappy Glasses

I'm starting to understand the need for good optics. This is crazy!

It was about 6:30 when I made it out to Big Lake a couple weeks ago to look for carp. I headed for the spot by the railroad tracks pictured here. There was something wrong. The distance between the weeds and the water had gotten wide.

This was a view from about 100 yards from the road looking north on that first picture linked in the article.

This is a picture of a small area where water was seeping in from the main body of Big Lake. I'm facing East.

The level of the water was way low. This made me excited, because it bode well for visibility. (I don't have my grandpappy glasses yet.) If I can see a tail fin, I can guess on where the head is.

Saw a lot of fins, but I was mistaken on  what they were, for the most part. A couple were golden beauties, but with globs of catfish fry near shore, other fins were other fish.

Alas, the carp didn't want to play that day, but the gar sure did!

Foul-hooked in the back. Woops!

Legitimately pursued and ate the fly. Because of the construction of its jaw, they are nearly impossible to hook. It came in because it didn't want to let go.

Last and largest of the day. Also not foul-hooked.

Not much to a gar as far as fight. Big and floppy like a pike, but not near as energetic. Hooked into a monster at one point, but they just feel like wavy logs moving through the water. The smaller ones like to run for a little bit. 

I took the girls to the companion pond there in Big Lake yesterday and they both caught fish! Eva's was about 3 inches long. It got off before I could snap a picture. Here's Ruth's:

Self-casted, self-reeled and self-held. Not self-removed yet, though.

The cool thing about yesterday's trip was that Ruth, unprovoked and with confidence, said, "I want to try and hold a fish today."

Not too many days hence, and this girl will be unhooking her own fish.

This morning I went out to the really low area and looked for more carp. Water was even lower. Didn't get to cast to carp fins until it was about time to leave. Had a large gar try to grab on to a bunny leach I had as a dropper. That was kind of scary, actually. They are very shark-like and it was near my legs.

I have some gear reviews to do still, but man I wish I could do a review on those grandpappy sunglasses. I am dying to be able to see what I'm casting to! The fins I cast to at the last were in such a position that, had I been able to see below the surface, maybe I could have gauged the length of the fish better. If I build it, they will come.

It was a huge fin. What a site for grandpappy sunglasses. 

The Fulfilling Moments

Six months ago, I started praying, hoping and searching hard for a job that truly fit who I was. I was praying hard to find out who I was, talent-wise. With an inspired wife and some great friends, the opportunity with ConAgra rolled up. That was a fulfilling moment, to sit in an interview and honestly express excitement about what one can do at a Unix console, then get to do it every day.

Turned out even better than I expected. My new job was five - count 'em - five minutes away from my favorite fishing hole.

They have free popcorn. I get along great with my coworkers. (That last one has never lacked, but it's a nice trend to continue.)

Every time I reflect on how those prayers have been answered, and are answered every day, it's a fulfilling moment.

I hit the water today during lunch. 78 degrees and sunny, slight breeze. Water semi-clear, not much turbidity.

Not a single bite.

I commented on this with a co-worker who enjoys the sport. I lamented my attempts with my wife via chat. She felt sorry for me. Our chat turned to our budget. We discussed cost-savings. I decided I just needed to take a good evening up at a nice spot, catch a bunch of green sunfish, and we'd have some grocery supplement.

Wife brought the girls up to work so I could take them tonight. That was a fulfilling moment.

First fish was Eva's, and a nice one at that. As you can see, she's two years old. And distressed. This fish went in the bucket. She caught another soon after, similar size. Dropped her pole. I picked it up. Fish went in the bucket.

Next two were Ruth's. She fought them hard and strong. Held it up for a picture.  Those two fish went in the bucket. Is that a tick on the grass behind her?

Skipping down the bank to the next spot, Ruth cries, "This is great daddy-daughter time!!"

That was a fulfilling moment.

All told, 3 on the fly rod, 4 by the babies. Met some polite young men out having fun. They wished us a good evening, called me a good fisherman - I denied it; they haven't read my blog.

Car doors slam shut. Girls are buckled, bucket is in the back, and we're rolling.

"We're going to go home," starts Ruth, "and we're going to kill the fish, then we're going to cut them up, and freeze them to eat later."

"That's right!"

Kind of a weird moment, that, but fulfilling in a way.

Girls are in the kitchen awaiting the spectacle. 

Apron is on, dog is out, cat is not interested (strange), and the first fish gets it. 

"Ewwww! There's blood! Yuck."

Another fish flops in the sink.

"Don't worry fish, you'll be okay!" Ruth says.

"Ho ho, no they won't," I remind her.

"Why?" she asks.

"Because we're going to cut them!"

"Oh, right. We're going to cut them up! They will NOT Be okay! Haha!"

Sinister.

More ooooo's and ahhh's, and the first fish is butchered. Time for bath.

Eva only had one tick on her hide. Pulled 9 off of Ruth. 8 from her scalp, one from behind her ear. Babies were scrubbed and sleeping soon after.

Butchered the rest of the fish, with the help of this awesome video. Behold:

Leftovers

And here we are. Only cut up one of the 14 fillets beyond recognition. They are now chilling, per my daughters earlier statement.

My wife wonders via text where I am. I send her the bag-of-fish picture. She says, "Yay! Enough for fish tacos?"

"Heck yes," I say, and it still feels as fulfilling now as it did in that moment.

Oh crap, though. I just realized I wrapped the fillets in parchment paper instead of wax paper. I hope they're okay! Oh well... lesson learned if not. It's still all about the fulfilling moments.

Ruth's Bake Sale

Man, ever sit down to tie flies with a tasty snack nearby?

I needed to take a commercial break between scheduled appointments for work to support a very special individual. His name is Bob the Dog. Bob is a boy dog. Although, it might be a female. We don't know yet.

"Why do you not know if the dog is male or female? It's named Bob."

Great question, whoever you are! The reason we don't know if it is male or female is because we don't actually own him/her yet. 

Bob the Dog is the desire of our four-year-old Ruth. 

Ruth and her wonderful mother.

She is trying to save/make enough money to buy and maintain Bob the Dog. She has been trying for about two years. 

Between Christmas and grandparents, and a couple stickerbook expenses, she has been able to save about $27. Our goal is at least $75 (minimum price at the Nebraska Humane Society.)

This is where you come in. I want you, in February - between fly-tying sessions and/or other fun and engaging activities - to eat tasty Valentine's treats. But not just any treat. Ruth's treats.

Please help support Ruth in her efforts to buy a dog by filling out this order form and getting it back to us by the deadline indicated. We'll ship these goodies like they are nobody's business. Except for my daughter's. We'll ship them like they are hers. Because they are.

But hurry, there's only so much she can bake!

By the way, watch this video. Wouldn't a little dog just love our baby girl? Plus, it would clean up after our cat.