It's Not Nice to Fool (With) Mother Nature! by Dean Sault



A little boy carefully calculated the distance to the stump way out in the lily pads. He figured, that with a mighty heave, he just might make it. One - two - three - there she goes! His carefully selected rock was just the right weight and his neighborhood reputation as the best arm around proved true to form. THUNK!!! One big red-ear turtle would have a headache tonight! The other boys broke into raucous laughter at the sight of all the panicked turtles diving frantically for the sanctuary of the water...and the little boy beamed with pride at his misbehavior.

Well, that young man grew up to be a good husband, a loving father, a successful businessman and, yes, a bass fisherman. Not ANY ole bass fisherman, mind you, a serious "gotta have every new gimmick" bass-a-holic! ...almost bought the Banjo Minnow - it's that bad! And, he stopped tormenting small creatures. But, no matter how hard he tries, the "little boy" in him occasionally creeps to the surface!

A few years ago, I took my best friend and his son out for a day of fishing at Folsom lake. They had never been bass fishing before and were thrilled each time a bass exploded onto their buzzbaits in the S. fork. Nearby, a great blue heron was quietly wading when my boyhood impulses got the better of me. On a whim, I made a perfect cast and sputtered my buzzbait right out from between its legs. The startled bird pecked at the noisy contraption and flapped its enormous wings in anger. Everyone laughed!

Encouraged by the bird's antics, I harassed that poor bird with another cast. And, guess what I discovered? Those stupid looking, stilt-legged frog eaters are smart - and mean! He actually figured out where that cast came from. Instead of pecking wildly at my noisy lure, he half flew, half walked-on-water, out to my boat where he proceeded to flap his enormous wings and peck at ME! Scared the s*%# out of me and my guests.

Yep, I learned my lesson about blue herons - but - I failed to generalize it to the rest of mother nature.

A few weeks later, I was pre-fishing Shasta for an upcoming tournament. It was about noon on a hot day and the top water bite had died so I put on a big spinnerbait and began looking for stumps or branches in the water. You know the drill, find a little shade, you'll find a bass. Rounding a bend in a McCloud cove, I saw what looked like a stump sitting right next to the water. Figured there had to be some roots in the water below it so, without further ado, I threw my double bladed offering into one inch of water right next to the wood. Splash.

THAT STUMP MOVED!

It turned out to be the biggest damn rattlesnake I had ever seen! "Thank God," I thought. "I'm safe way out here in the water in a boat." So - you guessed it - I started splashing that diamond back with my sp'bait.

Now, it didn't take long before that enraged serpent decided to educate yours truly on the swimming prowess of the members of his clan. When he lunged into the water I said, "No problem" to my partner and I casually turned the boat towards deep water. Figured the excitement was over.

Not even!!! Each time I increased that trolling motor a click, he increased his motor two clicks! I figured it was time to get concerned when the trolling motor was on "high" and he was still gaining on me. In no time at all, the angry reptile was within a few feet of my big motor and that nice low entry point at the transom! My non-boater ran up to the front deck and let me know that the snake with the bright red eyes was MY problem - not his!

I knew my regular rods would be useless against that monster so I quickly reached into the rod locker for my stoutest flippin stick. Then I began pushing the fat serpent under the water to keep him out of the rigging at the back of the boat while I shouted for my passenger to start the main motor and get us the hell out of there. For a few seconds, my heart was in my throat as the cold big motor fired, coughed and died. Then, with the best looking puff of blue smoke I have ever seen, it fired, stayed lit and we left ole red-eyes floating 200 feet from shore.

Later that day, I apologized to Mother Nature for every turtle with a headache that I ever caused. And, I don't mess with Mother Nature anymore!



This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page