Posted October 4, 2012 at 10:12 am

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Above is the four generations of Hubbards mentioned last week in the Sun, of the old trot liners get together. Great-grandpa Ron and Grandpa Kennie had set lines in the Buck Saw area on Truman Lake and taken a good catch of Blue Cat the next morning. They called grandson and son, Ryan, and asked him to bring great-grandson and grandson Isaac up and spend the night and run the lines the next morning. Ryan and Isaac arrived about 6 p.m. and we decided to bait the lines before supper. This was Isaacs first ride in a motorboat and you can only imagine the excitement in three-year-old Isaac’s spirit. Kennie and Ryan were at the front of the boat baiting the line, Ron never left the driver's seat and Isaac was all over the boat from one end to the other. Kennie noted the line felt heavy but there wasn’t any movement going on. Suddenly a hugh Blue Cat fish came to the surface. A humongous spoonbill cat no doubt had swam next to one of the dropped lines and as it followed the fish's bill, the 12 ot circle hook was buried in the bill of the fish. The fish had spent its strength during the day so the biggest effort was lifting the fish in the boat. Meanwhile, Isaac had taken one look at the fish and retreated to the back of the boat with great-grandpa Ron. While Kennie and Ryan were trying to get the fish on board, Ron yelled Shark! Shark! That hit Isaac’s panic button and he started screaming at the top of his lungs Shark? Shark? Shark? Kennie and Ryan got the hook out and let the fish slip on to the floor of the boat. The momentum of releasing it off the front deck caused it to come sliding, bill first, right at Isaac and Ron. This was too much. Excitement turned to desperation and survival. Both feet left the floor, as he sprang into great-grandpa’s arms, knowing he would be swallowed alive by the monster fish. It took considerable coaxing and assuring before Isaac would get down off the seat and touch the fish. The spoonbill was put back into the water to revivle itself and we resumed baiting the trotline. All the while, Isaac kept a watchful eye on the spoonbill treading the water on or near the surface. As we were leaving, the fish was still swimming slowly on the surface. Ron maneuvered the boat along side the fish and with Isaac at the side right by the fish, Ron suddenly gave a karate yell and slapped the fish on the head. This erupted a belly laugh out if Isaac that lasted what seemed like 30 seconds or more. This is only one of hundreds of wonderful memories of trotline fishing but will no doubt stay at the top until fishing days are over.

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