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I would like to know if anyone has any funny, bizarre, or just plain good fishing stories out there, shoot I'ld even like to hear a tall tale or two!

Let's hear what you got, I'll post a few later when I have more time.

KR

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Well there was this one time I went fishing that I seen these people back in ........wait....this is a family oriented website so I cant tell that story. :0

One of the funniest things I seen was when I was a kid fishing with my family. My mom cast by a tree and her line went over a limb and wrapped around it. The lure was swinging about 6 inches above the water. A bass that weighed about 1.5 lb jumped out of the water and grabbed the lure. So then there was a lure with a bass on it swinging about 6 inches above the water. I was having a good laugh and asked her what she was going to do about it. She said she wasnt going to do anything about it, I was. That took some of the humor out of the situation. I wonder if retrieving flying bass is legal in this state.

I would rather be fishin'.

"Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb contesting the vote." Benjamin Franklin, 1759

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here's a good story, feel free to laugh at my expence. I can't hear you.

I was fishing a pond by myself a couple of years ago. I was throwing some sort of mid sized jerkbait, dont remember what exactly, but it had a lot of trebles. The first few cast I caught nothing but moss. so when the 5th cast came back covered in moss, I left out about 4 feet line a gave it a hard pop, in anger I might add, to try and clear the moss off. well the rear treble hooks ended up under my chin! the pain wasn't to bad, so I began to try and unhook myself. you can't really see what is going on under your chin, so I was going by feel alone. I finally figured out that two of the three hooks from the rear treble had went all the way through the skin and were sticking back out. I tried to pull them out, but that wouldn't work. I could pull the lure straight down and stretch my skin down with it so I knew it was only through skin. I ended up cutting the line and walking back to my truck, about 150 yards with a jerkbait hanging from my chin. I am glad no one saw me. at the truck, I looked in the mirror and confirmed what I suspected, being young and stupid, and not wanting to quit fishing so early. I looked in the mirror, pulled the lure down so that my skin was stretched tight. I put the blade of my pocket knife into the bend of the hook, and started sawing. After I had cut through skin to free both hooks. I surveyed the damage, not much bleeding, very little pain. so I walked back and fished for a few hours. I hope some of the rest of you will share your stories, I know everybody has at least one.

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Several years ago my brother and I went on a canoe trip on the Current River.

We stopped at a gravel bar for lunch and he was using a microjig of some sort

and caught a nice 5lb rainbow by a fallen log. He was so excited and took

all kinds of pictures and thats all he has to remember it by. He put the

fish on a metal stringer and tied it to the back of the canoe. Several hours

later he looked down to check on the fish and it was not there. That was

probably the best and worst day of his life. He was only a teenager at that time. However I took him fishing a few months ago and he caught another

5lb rainbow here at Taney. This time he let him go on purpose.

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Anyone who has been to the San Juan will appreciate this one.

A couple of years ago me, my brother and my friend Jack went to the San Juan in February. The San Juan was one of my dads favorite places to fish and we were going to spread some of his ashes in the river and do a weekend of fishing. We did the ashes thing, then got busy fishing. Wasnt too long before my brother says "I got a leak in my waders" but he toughed it out and fished the rest of the day. Repaired them as best we could that night (it wasnt easy because the 3 of us were drunker then you can imagine!) so the next day we decide to go further downstream away from the crowds and its a LONG walk from parking the car to where you can fish. My brother is in the front of the line, squishing though the marshy area, going under the thickets, etc, etc.

All of sudden Rob disappears. POOF! Just gone. Jack and I look at each other "Where did Rob go?" He pops back up soaking wet, waders full of the ice cold water of the San Juan. Seems there was just a tiny drop off that he didnt see. Now the car is a good mile or so away, he start taking off his waders, Jack and I are on the ground about to pee ourselfs laughing so much. My brother is upset deluxe at us, for laughing and being so wet. He is sitting on the bank in his long johns, which are now full of mud, which makes us laugh even more. finally like a 6 yr old he says "*&## you guys...I am going back to the room and get warm"

We let him walk about halfway before Jack said, "We should go with him" "WHY? He knows where Abes is" So we went back to Abes with my whiney little brother, got changed into some warm clothes had a shot or two (for medicinal purposes) and then went back to the river. Only this time he made us go up near the ESPN hole.

I still give him a ration of @#*& about that.

You are so stupid you threw a rock at the ground and missed.

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The San Juan was one of my dads favorite places to fish and we were going to spread some of his ashes in the river and do a weekend of fishing. We did the ashes thing, then got busy fishing.

John, what a tribute to your father...great story too :D

Dano

Glass Has Class

"from the laid back lane in the Arkansas Ozarks"

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My story is not so much about what happened, but instead about what was said. Some 4 years ago I introduced my wife to fly fishing. She was a fast learner and we managed to avoid divorce court in the process. However, I failed to explain clearly the names of the different flies. Not long afterwards, we went fishing on a nice, warm Saturday morning. It was fairly crowded as you can imagine. We were about 15 or so yards apart. A fish had just broken her off. She had been fishing a beadhead sowbug. She checks her fly and then turns down river and yells to me (and in front of everybody on that stretch of river), "Sweetie, I need another one of those sowpig things." Heard lots of chuckles. Well, the name stuck, and to this day the sowpig is her favorite fly. And it does catch a lot of fish too. I'm just glad she wasn't using a red butt that morning!

PENTAX K10D PENTAX K7 PENTAX K3 PENTAX SMCP F/1.4 50mm PENTAX DA 40mm f2.8 PENTAX DA Fish-Eye 10-17mm F3.5 ED (IF) PENTAX DA 70mm F2.4 Limited PENTAX DA 21mm F3.2 AL Limited PENTAX FA 100mm F2.8 Macro PENTAX DA* 200mm f/2.8 PENTAX AF540FGZ flash PENTAX D-GB2 Grip PENTAX D-BG4 Grip

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Your online photo had me already cracked up.. but that story was funny,

and I am glad to hear that 'sowpig' tradition has been carried on.

These are great guys.. keep them coming. No doubt Phil has 3-4 stories to share.

best fishes - Brian

Just once I wish a trout would wink at me!

ozarkflyfisher@gmail.com

I'm the guy wearing the same Simms longbilled hat for 10 years now.

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This was sent to me by my good friend Tom Anderson some time back. Tom is a excellent fly tyer and fly fisherman who lives near the Spring River in Arkansas. In his story he passes on how like minded local conservationist were responsible for the cuts, brookies and browns in parts of the White River system.

Mark Oliver was our district fisheries biologist at the time and he worked closely with Chuck Davidson in the egg-stocking program that Chuck and his club (N. Ark. Flyfishers---we're talking 70s/early 80s) conducted. Chuck, with Marks' approval, stocked both the 1st Cutts and Brookies, to my recollection, in Otter Creek on the downstream end of McClellens' Camp on the Norfork after the 'experts' with AGFC and Dave Whitlock poo-pooed the idea as unfeasible.

In '84 or '85 (no longer certain) Mark provided an electro-fishing crew (not for the 1st time either!) to shock Dry Run Creek for us one cold November weekend so that we could strip Browns for eggs for the Whitlock/Vibert boxes. It's rather humbling to hold a big hen fish upside down in your hand (after tranguilizing her) and run your other hand down her belly and watch the eggs squirt out like golden BBs into the pail. A half dozen hens stripped into the bucket with a little creek water in it, then strip a male of milt into the bucket, stick your hand into the mess and stir. Let it sit a bit and then put the eggs into the stocking boxes and bury them 4-6" deep in a well oxygenated riffle. Screen gravel over the top thru a 1/2" mesh screen and with luck (& a bit of TLC) in several weeks you'll have fry.

But that was the last time the state helped, to my recall, or even allowed us to stock eggs much less take them from resident fish with both their approval and assistance. By the next Winter AGFC has hired Mark Hudy as the state 'Trout Biologist' and he decreed that no amatuers were to be involved in such things. A typical union mindset IMO that has prevailed ever since. But the state is not shy about claiming credit for stocking the Cutts and Brookies. BTW, that last stocking in the event I describe was a washout---literally. Heavy Winter rains brought a deluge down Dry Run and even the stocking boxes were lost, washed out of the gravel and downstream, perhaps even as far as the White.

Somewhere around here I have a very short video clip of that last egg harvest. Back then video batteries weren't as dependable as they are now. :-(

So you now know why I turn red in the face when I hear some bureaucratic flunky waxing eloquent about the great work that AGFC has done in establishing such a variety of trout species in our waters. Especially in light of the additional fact that it was the Memphis & 'Lil Rock flyfishing clubs who were responsible for the Brown trout fishery on the 'Lil Red despite having to stock eggs on the sly because the state had denied permission. But the state is more than willing to brag about the World Record Brown from there. (which was most probably from the original egg-stocking effort) Without the 'amatuers' Arkansas would probably still have nothing but raceway Rainbows in their cold-water fisheries.

So IMHO we owe a debt of gratitude to Chuck Davidson for his far-sighted efforts and to Mark Oliver for having the wisdom to recognize that Chuck had the best interests of the future generations of both fish and angler in mind with his efforts. I hope to someday see Chuck recognized by an annual award given to a non-professional for efforts on behalf of our cold-water fisheries.

Mark Oliver still works for AGFC the last I heard. Should you run across him in your peregrinations it wouldn't be untoward to shake his hand and say "Thank you". He was the right man for his time.

Glass Has Class

"from the laid back lane in the Arkansas Ozarks"

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WOW these are great stories! :lol: I laughed my rear off! Okay SKMO I have a story for you that I will admit isn’t as funny as these others, but it is about me catching my first fish on my own as a kid.

My Dad, older brother, and I were drowning worms with and old Zebco one day down in Grandpa’s pond. There was an old row boat that was sunk under the water and completely surrounded by moss and algae and I was fascinated with it, so I kept casting over to it. With each cast, before I even had a chance, my Dad would make me reel in, clean off my hook, re-bait and tell me to cast to the deeper water. Well he eventually got tired of this and left me to myself so he could help out my brother. Next thing he knew I was walking down the bank with another glob of goop, and he started to patiently re-explain to me about how the fish like deeper water, and I feeling like an idiot was just ready to go home. Next thing we know an honest to goodness eatin’ sized blue gill emerged from the muck. I caught my first fish and didn't even know it! Been hooked ever since!

KR

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