Mud Cats

My goodness, I don't know how to begin to explain how much I enjoyed fishin' in my younger days.

It was my narcotic, my nirvana, my earthly salvation, and produced my most thrilling moments.

From my earliest memories, until about 30 years old, I lived for the experience of piscatorial adventure.

Then I quit.

I'm still trying to figger out why my priorities have not included getting back to that most sincere of nature pursuits?

I reveled in the glory of bream (red ear, blue gill, and hybrid) and "mud cats" at Uncle Charlie's pond. I spent endless hours of glory at Caddo Lake and Lake Texarkana pulling channel catfish into the boat. I cherish the memory of "monster" bass caught and released at Flossie Lyles tank.

Why did this endless pleasure end? Hell if I know. I just know that I have to rekindle that ever so pleasurable fire and find a place to watch the bobber "bob", feel the surge of a bait taken, and watch the bend of the rod.

Damn JRM, I miss fishin'!