A fishing he will go

by Katie on May 30, 2012

A fishing he went, more accurately.

And boy, did he.

I had the pleasure of being my husband’s accompaniment on his last fishing expedition of the season. On our way to the lake that night, he looked over and said, “I’ve been fishing four of the last seven days…That. Is. Awesome.”

So, yeah…I wasn’t kidding about the fishing. And let’s just say he did a lot more catching than just fishing. The total from those four days alone was somewhere around 200 fish. And that’s no “fish tale” either.

How in the world did a hay farmer find time to fish that much in the thick of hay season, you ask? Well, the first time he went, he was able to double-bale the night before, and therefore had a night off. I failed to mention that all this fishing took place at night. As in, he would leave for the lake somewhere around 7 to 8pm, and return the next morning with his bounty. This was partially “to stay on his night baling schedule” and partially because the desert sun was already doing a nice job of beating down on a farmer’s back in mid-May.

Anyway, that first little trip gave Brandon just the taste of success he needed to get him itching for the first opportunity to return. He and a buddy returned the next morning with 69 fish in tow. Sixty-nine. They averaged a fish every five minutes for the amount of time they were on the lake.


There was no stopping him from returning after a night like that.

Somehow, that very weekend, he ended up with three hay-baling free nights to fish. I’m still not sure how it all worked out, but he assures me we didn’t skip a field or anything. I’m not all that sure I would put it past him. Because as serious as he is about his farming, boy loves him some time outdoors.

The first night, he took his dad. They brought in a haul of 53, including a toad of a bass my father-in-law snagged. Too bad neither of them took a real camera and all we have is a fuzzy image from Brandon’s beat up flip phone, circa 1997.



The second night, he went with friends again and pulled in another 44.

And the final night of Leister Fishing Season 2012, I was the selected fishing partner. But I failed. Miserably. Our bite slowed somewhere around midnight, I got sleepy, and turned in for a “nap.” Brandon couldn’t quite hang by himself, and our “naps” ended as the sun was peeking over the mountain top.


Despite our lack of hard-coreness, the bite was on when we woke up, and in just the few hours we actually had poles in the water, we managed to put 25 fish in the boat.

If you ask him now, though, he’ll tell you catching all those fish was the time of his life. Cleaning them…well, not so much. And don’t ask the vacuum sealer about all the fun she had with that job.

But both of us sure are enjoying the whole bass we’ve put on the grill, the catfish we’ve fried and the crappie in the freezer for next year’s fish fry.

It was a good week, indeed.

And I couldn’t be happier my hard-working farmer got to spend a few nights out doing one of his favorite things. It’s always much deserved.




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