Phil Lilley

Many of you have read the story of the new state record brown trout landed by resort guest Scott Sandusky two weeks ago as he drifted rainbow PowerBait by Cooper Creek with his Arnold, MO, buddies. What we haven't disclosed until recently was our special Thanksgiving blessing of fishing for and finding the lunker a second time -- this time out of a trash truck . . . At 37 inches long, 24.75 inches in girth and weighing 28.8 pounds, Scott obviously needed to mount his prize, which was roughly a pound heavier than the previous record. We needed to make a decision what to do with his brown while the Missouri Department of Conservation processed the paperwork needed to make his fish the official new state record brown trout. Clint Hale, Shepherd of the Hills Hatchery manager, told us that the fish could not be consumed or taken to a taxidermist until the paperwork was complete which would take a few weeks. So we needed to find a freezer big enough for a 40-inch fish to lay flat, since its bulk had been wrapped in towels to secure its shape. The only one we could find was in the kitchen at the First Baptist Church here in Branson, so dad and I took the fish and placed in the freezer. Honestly, I did think about labeling it somehow to identify it as belonging to someone but . . . I trusted that no one would mess with it. That was our downfall. Dad flashed the fish off in the freezer Sunday night to some fellow church-goers, at least showing off the bulk size of the fish. The towels were frozen to the skin of the trout so he couldn't back the layers, but it was still an impressive sight. On Wednesday morning, dad drove to the church to retreive the record fish to transfer it to a freezer we had. Once the fish was frozen solid, it could be stood upright, fitting into another freezer. The trout was gone. No fish in the freezer anywhere. Jerry asked in the office, but no one know about it. Then he learned of the fish's fate. It had been thrown out into the dumpster on Monday -- only to have been picked up that very Wednesday morning by the trash truck. "I've never been so down in my life as when I saw that fish was gone," Jerry said. He began asking us all to pray for a miracle, and Carolyn, my mother, even called friends to pray. I was headed to a meeting, and resigned myself to the fact that the fish was gone for sure, but dad's tenacity paid off. He called the Alllied Waste company and found out where the truck was headed, drove to Reeds Spring and met the truck there prepared for dumpster diving. The attendants there were experienced in finding the treasures people have thrown out. (Once retrieving some tossed diamond earrings.) They dumped the contents of the truck on a concrete pad and started picking through it with a small bobcat. Mom had accompanied dad for "support" and both were holding their noses and hoping they'd find the fish in decent shape, but with every move, the bobcat did not turn up any light teal-green towels or fish remains. My mom is a woman of faith. Her relationship with the Lord is astounding, and she told dad she was hearing the Lord say it was in a pile "over there." Dad had all but given up on the search, but mom pushed for one more swipe of trash in the area God was directing her to. Then she saw the towel. She waded in and dug it out. The fish was still wrapped in the towel. A small tear in its back was the only visible damage to the fish they could see. They headed back home with the trout, praising God for His constant faithfulness and mercy -- this time exhibited in finding the fish. Scott's brown trout is once again in a freezer, but this time it's in a safer place. Trout that large are actually replicated by taxidermists and not mounted in the traditional way of using the actual fish and its skin. But when the mold is made of the actual fish and a replica cast, Scott will have the mount of a lifetime, representing his "knee-shaking" treasure of a memory: Scott and his friends, Scott Hawkins, Greg Lawson and Craig Thomas, had planned to catch some keeper rainbows to fry for dinner Friday night, then hit the trophy area for lunkers on Saturday. They drifted downstream, using rainbow-colored, paste Power Bait, bumping it on the bottom as you're supposed to. Just below Cooper Creek, Scott set his rod in the rod holder to help with another rig. Thinking he saw a bite, Scott picked his rod back up, set the hook and knew -- he had something big. But he didn't know what it was . . . a catfish? A big carp? If it was a trout, it was a really, really big trout. Then they saw it. It was a brown trout. He had his spin reel set to wind backwards, not trusting the drag. Smart guy because this fish didn't want to play. The brown surged for the far bank, spinning off so much line, so fast, that it was all Scott could do release the handle and watch his line fly off his reel. Then he stopped. Working it closer to the boat, his team of anglers started to plan their attack. One retrieved the net and the other pulled up the trolling motor -- just in time. Four-pound line doesn't last long against a prop. When most people buy a fish net, they don't expect to land a 37-inch fish, right? Scott's net could hold half this fish. It flopped in, it flopped out. Then Scott's net man, Craig, muscled up and got it in the boat. All was made official by Missouri Department of Conservation officials at the Shepherd of the Hills Hatchery. Shane Bush, MDC fisheries biologist and Quenten Fronterhouse, MDC enforcement agent, both helped in this process. Clint Hale, hatchery manager, was also present.