Sherman 1 Kaleb Sherman Eng. 101-130 Mr.

Neuburger 28 February 2012 Descriptive Essay Hooked It was a dark and rainy Saturday morning, I could see my reflection in the puddles outside, and the clouds seemed to go on for days. Bound to be a dreadful day, I gave up all hope and returned to my heavenly bed. It was only 6:30 anyways, and fishing plans for the day had been all but destroyed. I awoke from a satisfying nap and returned to my window. I was shocked as I peered out. I no longer saw darkness, but golden rays beamed down instead. Someone had taken a wash cloth and cleared the sky of all its blemishes. It was still morning and there was no way I could miss this opportunity. Fishing after a rain is the best time to go, and an experienced fisherman could have great success on a day like that. I loaded up my tan colored tackle box full of spinners and buzzbaits, and headed down that dusty dirt road to my home away from home. I reached my destination in no more than a half hour. It was a lonely lake just off of O highway, fed by the Grand River. Even today nobody really knows of this place. People just dont take the time to recognize a place so far off of a common road I reckon. I however, had been brought there many times with my pops as a kid, and had caught a lot of fish there, but no day would even compare to this particular one. Searching for the most ideal spot to cast into, I walked the edge of the cove. The rain had made the terrain very slippery, and it was unbelievably hard to walk with all my gear. The path I had taken was overgrown with small trees and weeds. I remember saying to myself

Sherman 2 Thank God Im not allergic to poison ivy. After a 45 minute walk finally I was sure I had found my spot, the sun shined on the bank and the water flickered like diamonds. The lake in this particular spot appeared to be about twelve feet deep. The water was crystal clear, and I could already see the bass taking cover under logs and other aquatic foliage, waiting to ambush their next victims. Little did they know, I was about to turn predator, into prey. I had a small motor boat out there, but I figured with the rain and everything that I probably wasnt going to need that rusty tin can. I pulled out my blaze orange and black, Berkley made pole, and bait caster reel, and started feeding it line. I was sure twelve pound test line would suffice for the day, and after completely spooling it I turned to my tackle box. I had been planning my selection while I was walking over so I knew exactly where to go. In the second shelf, I kept all of my spinners and for today I had planned to use a default color. It was a chartreuse and white half ounce spinner. I had used this jig many times, and I dont believe I ever went a day without catching fish with it. I tied it on quickly, using the classic fishermans knot my father had taught me when I was a boy, and I was sure I was about to have a magnificent day. The first cast was something that was very important to me, I happened to be a little bit superstitious in way. I felt that if my first cast went awry, my day would be ruined, so I took extra time and effort for this preliminary throw. I steadied my thumb on the spool so that I wouldnt get a birds nest of line in my reel, pulled my arm back and side arm and let it fly. My line cracked like a whip as that heavy spinner flew and gained velocity. I had indeed made a perfect cast. I had landed the bait like a dove into some log cover about 25 feet out, where I could still see the faint outline of the fish underneath. Bass fishing is by far the most challenging of fresh water fishing and you have to be smart about how you lure them in. They will eat just about anything, but it has to look real, or make them mad enough to go after it. Thats why for

Sherman 3 this day I chose the spinner, Its gold and silver flashers going through the water seem to really get them to bite. As I reeled in my bait I would give it an erratic motion, Reeling fast for a turn or two, and then stopping completely, like it was an injured fish. I could see that bass coming closer and closer with each crank. With one more tug on that line the fish attacked it. I pulled up to set that hook like I was going to yank it straight out of the water. To my surprise this fish pulled back with a force and I knew the fight was going to be on. I couldnt tell how big this fish actually was but it pulled like a truck, and moved like a cheetah. I had to let the drag out on my line quickly, or he would have broken it. As soon as I did so, the line zinged across the water, fast as lightning, and that bass was barreling across the lake. After he had taken most of my line I had to start moving. He taken off and was headed left, so I did the same and started side stepping down the bank. After about fifteen minutes of fighting I could tell he was starting to get tired, and I took full advantage of it, reeling him in quickly I pulled him in to about twenty feet of line. I had finally gained some ground on this big boy and I was sure he was mine. He jerked around a little bit but he had little fight left in him. He reached the bank flopping lazily and I reached down and grabbed him. After that war, my arms were tired and it was almost a struggle just to hold him. Its scales were many different colors, ranging from blue to brown, and he seemed to have weighed as much as a small dog. I got him on the scale and watched the numbers go up. He weighed out to fifteen pounds, and I was triumphant. After the dreary start to this day, it had seemed to work out after all. On a day like this I would have spent all afternoon there catching fish and toying around with different baits, but since this happened to be my first cast I figured I couldnt fish anymore. I packed up my things and was ready to make the trek back home. The mighty bass I had caught was strung up near the bank in a small pool I had found. I picked him up and began to take him to the cooler I had brought, but as I began to think about

Sherman 4 the situation and I decided I did not want to take him. That bass had been part of the best brawl I had ever been in, and I figured I owed him just a little bit of respect. He was the king of that lake, and I wanted to return him to rule his territory. I pulled the stringer out of his gills, and let him back down gently into the water. He did not swim off fast; he merely glided through the water without a worry. To this day I have never been through such a struggle for such a small task.