A Fishing TaleI went fishing at my favorite fishing hole here in WV, and baited up my first pole and cast it out. I picked up my second pole to bait it and saw my first pole jumping from a fish. I pulled in a good sized catfish and being in a hurry to get my other pole out, I just threw the catfish up on the river bank and rebaited pole # 1, which I cast out again. But once more I saw my pole jumping, so had to stop trying to rebait pole # 2 and take the fish off pole # 1 again. But this time it turned out to be a waterdog, or mudpuppy, as some call them. I threw the waterdog up on the bank and took up pole # 2 again. Just then I heard a loud commotion and looked up in time to see that waterdog chase the catfish up a tree. I then had to fish for 3 days before I caught a sawfish big enough to cut the tree down and get my catfish. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ MR FLAT HEADHey MR flat head I know your hiding in those deep dark holes. But here I come with my mighty Henry pole. It's dark and spooky along those river banks. But sooner or later you re going to take my bait. Yes the fight is on, my reel singing my favorite song. Pulling and tugging down the river you go. But I'm going to fight you from head to toe. Now you re trying to bend my hook, and bust my line. I'm sorry MR flat head it's not happening this time. Who really won this fight tonight? When you look at my picture I'm standing to his right. Tired, sore beat up and bruised. Now this MR flat head made front page news. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^FISHIN' WITH DAD Sometimes after supper When a burst of sun was still out shining; My Dad and I would go fishing In a place far from confining; Just right behind our rancher home, Down this narrow gravel lane, Was where a small, private pond sat, And some fish we would obtain. Using garden worms for bait, With our reels and ultra lights, The fish congregating in the shallows Would always give us bites. Bluegills, sunnies, and large mouth Were the kinds wed always catch; And you could certainly guarantee, That wed come home with quite a batch? Before heading back up to the house, Id hop-up off the tackle box. To go stroll down along the spongy bank And find a couple of real flat rocks. Across the unruffled water Id wing 'em . . . And then count the umpteen skips. Pretty soon, dad would join in with me, And show me some throwing tips. Those fishin' days when I was a youngster, Are long gone with the wind. And theres not a thing I would not render, Just to have them back again.