Another Fishing Story

Now I cannot actually attest to this story being true since I was not there, but my cousin Thomas Wylie says that it is and, goodness knows, I have heard him repeat it at least 347 times over the decades since we were in school. Should you recall, Thomas Wylie is the same cousin who duped me into ordering that huge submarine pictured on the back of the Cheerio’s box and, when it arrived, it was so small we could hardly find it in the packaging. Nevertheless, we filled its little port with soda and tried to float it. Yet, alas, during an attempt to make it submerge, we lost it down the bathtub drain. Bearing this in mind, you have been duly advised to take this story for what it is worth…a ‘fishing tale’ from Thomas Wylie.

Thomas Wylie and Buddy were hunting and fishing buddies. Mostly, they hunted during the fall and winter and fished during the summer…but exceptions could be counted on.

It was early June when school was out and all the nearby creeks and waterways were full of spring rain. This trip was an overnighter to Buddy’s folks’ cabin on the Saline River where the two loved to put out their trot lines in the slough.

They spent the afternoon deciding on the spots and then set the lines out about six feet apart to check on the following morning. They still had time before dark to catch a few tiny fish under the willows that overhung the bank. These could be used as bait to go with the red wigglers.

Just before ‘good dark’ they headed back to the cabin. By lamplight, they ate their bologna on stale bread sandwiches and drank their thermos of milk before turning in for the night. Thomas Wylie said he felt like he had just lay down when sunshine hit him in the face when Buddy shook him and said, “Get Up! We’re already late!”

They got in the old flat bottom wooden boat, cranked up the Evinrude motor, and ran the trot lines. Most of the bait was gone, but they did have several small catfish and one pretty good size flathead (I don’t know what that is—I’m just quoting Thomas Wylie) They put them in an ice chest to take back to the cabin and skin later. The two then switched to crickets and went in search of some bream and, hopefully, a bass or two.

In less than an hour they’d caught half an ice chest full of good size bream…the fishing trip was going great. However, as the sun beamed down, sometime around noon, they decided they’d paddle up the slough, partly to get out of the blistering heat. They eased around the big cypress trees that lined the creek with one or two in the middle. One of the more interesting parts of fishing up near one of these cypress trees, Thomas Wylie said, was never knowing what you might catch.

It was near the end of the afternoon and they were about to turn back toward the cabin when the front of the boat bumped up against an old treetop that had fallen into the water. Its limbs were mostly bare with some driftwood stacked up on top of it. Thomas Wylie said he was about to push back from the tangle of limbs because one or two were hanging over the front of the boat when he saw movement. He said it was the biggest cottonmouth water moccasin he’d ever seen and it was sliding down the limb and about to drop into the boat. They always took a 22 rifle with them wherever they went—to the woods or to the river. He said he grabbed the gun, shot the snake in the head, and it dropped dead into the boat.

He and Buddy remarked how big the thing was when they noticed a prominent bulge about half way down its middle. They talked about some snakes laying eggs while others have live births. They weren’t sure which method of birth water moccasins used but they decided it could be a nest of babies inside there. They laid it on the boat seat belly up and Buddy pulled out his ever-handy hunting knife. It was super sharp and, with Thomas Wylie holding the snake stretched out, Buddy made a long cut right across the top of the bulge. “I see something…Ahaaaa!” Buddy cried, jumping back before something hit him in the chest and Thomas Wylie jumped, too. When they came out of their shock, they looked down in the bottom of the boat to see what had come out of that snake’s belly. It was a large bullfrog. It took a couple of hops, and then jumped out of the boat into the water…a bullfrog Jonah!

Brenda Miles is an award-winning columnist and author formerly of La Grange and now living in Hot Springs Village and responds to e-mail sent to brenstar@att.net