FISH OF A LIFETIME x2

FISH OF A LIFETIME – My earliest memories of my late dad, Clifford Long, are his pursuit of a bigger flat head catfish. He loved to set trotlines and to run those lines. Finally I had an idea where to set a line. I was crappie fishing with a minnow on a jig on 4 lb. test line in 20 ft. of water up against a bluff in the Osage when I thought I got hung. When I tried to break the line, the obstruction moved. 45 minutes later I had about a 20 lb. flat head catfish by the boat. When it went back down, I went for the big dip net intending to dip up the fish the next time it came to the surface. The 4 lb. test line broke in the reel.

I told Dad about it and we decided to set a trotline at the spot. We bought a heavy line to put across the river, lighter line and river hooks for the 33 drops. We seined Little Clear Creek to get some small perch. Then we set the trotline anchoring it to the bluff and to a snag across the river. The next morning I was busy with grand kids all over the yard. Dad grabbed a great granddaughter and his bass boat and went to run the trotline. They found that a fish had pulled the trotline loose from the bluff. They headed for the snag across the river. As Dad pulled the line in, they saw a huge flat head swimming free with only one hook in its mouth. Dad used the gaff we carry in the boat. Soon he had a 55 lb. flat head flopping on the floor of the boat and a great granddaughter hoping that monster didn’t sprout legs and come get her off the back seat. It must have been the flat head Dad was looking for all those years because he never said a word about setting another trotline.

NO. 2 FISH OF A LIFETIME – Wash Evans who used to be a common sight driving his tractor in the Old Pape area north of Tiffin, told Dad about a hollow log in the Osage. We parked Dad’s pickup near the log and Dad sent me out to it. I had never noodled before (or since). I eased my left hand into the medium sized hole and felt something so light it was almost like you imagined it. Then the log exploded when the big flathead bit my hand. I pulled out my hand with the bloodied imprint of the fish’s top jaw on it, held it up and told Dad, “There’s little on in here.” Dad said, “A little one, my eye.” He soon was on the big end of the log with a small sack of bricks Wash had told him he would need to block the main hole. I went to the other end of the log and ran my hand in the small hole there. I felt the fish’s big fan tail working. When Dad had the bricks in place, I gripped the tail ahead of the fan. The bricks screaked. Dad got the big flathead by its lower jaw and tied the small rope    Wash had told him to bring. I went up the bank and pulled the big cat up the bank and put it in the back of the pickup. It weighed 40 lbs. Grandchildren were interested when Dad cleaned the flathead. The little boy on the left is Davis who just turned 36. The little girl on the right is Adrian who just turned 39.

Dad went back to the log on more time. He ran about a 1 in. saplin into the log with a river hook lashed to it. A big fish grabbed the hook smashing it. I’m so lucky she wasn’t in the log when I ran my hand in. Never risked it again.