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How was your trip?


rps

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OK. I apologize in advance for the bad typing.

I went out after the rain around 4:30 PM. The wife was at the Green Forest high school graduation - she teaches there - and I figured the rain and cloud cover would have the fish shallow.

Turns out I was right. The fish were shallow. Between 4:30 and 7:30 I caught 7 LM. 20, 18, 15, 15, 17.5, 12, 19.5 inches. Estimate best five were more than 18 pounds but less than 19. All came on a customized original size, silver black Zara spook. Best day in many many many trips.

After I netted the last fish, I was dreaming of more as I tried to unhook the fish. Of course the bait tangled in the net, so I tried to unhook the bait from the net first. Then I could unhook and measure the fish. The fish flopped hard. Suddenly, the 2x Gamakatsu Round Bend #2 treble I installed on the bait was buried in my right index finger near the first joint. Shucks. Darn. Golly. Fish flopped again and another barb caught the life jacket I was wearing. Double darn.

I used my left hand (Did I mention I am very right handed?) to slide my pants knife out of my pocket and somehow opened the thing one handed with my left hand. I then sawed my bait out of my life jacket.

Next I concentrated on unhooking the bait from the net. Every time the fish flopped, I explained in a calm voice how her efforts were counter productive. If she would lie still, I promised to release her as quickly as I could. Have you ever noticed that females don't listen?

After forever, I got the bait out of the net. I bit the line to take the rod out of the equation. My dentist will just have to understand.

Down to her and me, I used my needle nose to get her loose. I did measure her, as well as I could with a Zara Spook in my hand, before I turned her loose.

Resigned to quitting before the bite ended, I used my left hand to pull and secure the trolling motor, turned the key in my boat, and headed home. As I approached the slip at Holiday Island, new difficulties appeared. The boat I have is not responsive at slow speed. The slip I have requires a dogleg left at the last minute. I was excited and hurting. Things went awry.

I put the boat in neutral aand went forward to keep the bow from slamming onto the right post of my slip. I used my left hand and arm since my right was occupied. The boat kissed the slip post soundly.

Ok. So there I was in the water. I had my left hand on the gunnel and grabbed for the dock with my right. Shucks. Darn. Golly. The right the hand was still full of hooks. That didn't work well.

Somehow I got the boat in the slip. Next I had to try and figure how to get in the boat or up on the dock with only one hand. That was a job for trained professionals. Don't try it at home, kids.

It took nearly twice as long as usual to tie off the boat, plug in the air pump and raise the boat, put the rods in my carrier, plug in the battery charger, and do all those other right handed things.

Then I walked up to the car. Just as I got there, my slip neighbor pulled up. Where was he when I needed help in the water? He was headed out and wanted to know if they were biting. He didn't even ask why I was standing there dripping lake water with a Zara Spook in my right hand. I will call tomorrow and apologize for telling him jigs at 20'.

I drove to the emergency room in my stick shift car. Pause for a moment and think about cars. Besides the stick shift, try to imagine putting on your seat belt and turning the car on with a fist full of Zara Spook.

I walked in the ER door, lake water draining onto their nice clean floor, and walked up to the counter. Without looking up, the person at the counter slapped a clip board with a form in front of me and said, "Fill that out." I explained to her, in that same calm voice I used with the fish, that she was being insensitive and uncaring. After all, how would she feel if I had had a farm accident and was carrying my own severed arm?

I must not have impressed the counter lady. She stuck me in a little cold room. Thirty shivering minutes later this teenager in scrubs wanders in. I started to tell him I didn't need my bedpan changed, but he introduced himself as the doctor.

Young Doctor Kildare thought my story was the best he had heard in forever. Several times he had to stop trying to take care of my hand because he was laughing so hard. Do you suppose the hours they keep make them punchy?

I got home around 10:30.

The wife, without looking up, said "How was your fishing trip?"

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That was a great story!! :lol: I easily see that happening. Had a friend in a church tourney a couple years ago get a crankbait in the back of the neck so deep he had to go to the emergency room to get it removed. AT least you had a great day of fishing to offset the mishap.

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Great story...I had to take my 8 year old in last summer to get a small treble hook from a Uncle Buck crawdad crank removed from the back of his neck. Imagine my surprise when I notice the doctor that is doing the "removing" is missing his index finger on the hand that is doing the "removing". He was a great doc though and did a great job!

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I think nearly everyone has a hook story to tell; I am ashamed to admit this story was not my first. On Lake Bixby, just outside of Tulsa, I once traded a four pounder for a hook removal - the classic jerk the spinner bait off the limb trick. Neat scar on my chest.

A few years later, Junior, Lord, how I wish I remembered the rest of his name, taught me the push the hook through trick on Beaver. Luckily, the victim that time was my friend, Martin.

I would guess there are a number of you out there with stories to tell. Can any of you make me feel better by telling something worse than an out of the boat and hooked at the same time story?

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I had the pleasure of doing the hook removal 2x's this weekend. 1st time was a small size 12 scud hook burried past the barb in the left index finger. I couldn't get a good grip on it to yank it out, so I had Leonard give it a good yank with some hemos. That really wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be. Immediate relief. The second was a size 4 burried past the barb in my right thumb. No one to help this time. Got ahold of the bend of the hook with the hemos and gave it a solid yank with the left hand. That one hurt! Probably should have pushed that one through. I'm seriously considering going barbless from now on after this weekend.

duckydoty

A Little Rain Won't Hurt Them Fish.....They're Already Wet!!

Visit my website at..

Ozark Trout Runners

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RPS - Great story, vivid detail and I can even picture it in my mind. Not to sound insensitive to your plight, but 2 important questions, how big was that last fish? And did the Zara spook make it?

Not a fishing story, but a painful one none the less. My dad was changing the brakes on his pickemup and while spinning the whatchemcallit he got his finger pinched, loud scream followed by words not to be repeated, backed off the whatchemcallit. Try #2, going good, everything sliding into place, *&^%$#@!! pinched same finger again. Sometimes this is called a "hurts donut".

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The last fish was the 19.5 incher. I estimate 4.5 pounds, maybe a few ounces more, but not five pounds.

I have the Spook. Later this week I'll put a new Gamakatsu 2x roundbend ultrapoint treble on to replace the one the young doctor used the wire cutters on. Really prefer those trebles to the ones they ship on the Spook. I will vouch for their hooking and holding ability.

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