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Author
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Topic: Bullheaded
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The Outdoor Tripp
Knows what it's all about
Member # 619
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posted July 02, 2005 10:49 PM
Bullheaded
I love my brother Randy. He didn’t think so when he was seven. I didn’t think so when he was seven. I was ten at the time.
The summer of that year we fished the bullhead creek our father fished as a boy. Dad explained the strange but tasty little catfish helped him grow big and strong, and eager to follow suit we attacked the creek with zest ... and the latest in Zebco technology.
"I’m catching more fish and growing up bigger than you!" Randy declared. We chose our spots. War on.
Within five minutes I’d landed two bullheads. I taunted Randy as I slid them down the stringer.
Randy appeared frustrated as I landed my third uncontested fish. He adjusted his bobber to match my depth. He watched as I caught two more. His frustration grew.
"Dad, how come I’m not catching fishes?" Randy asked. I answered: "The fish see you. Your ugly cowlick scares them. You look like a giant fishing lure. That’s why I have five and you have zero." Randy’s lower lip quivered as he inched backwards into the weeds.
I brought in a sixth. Dad suggested we switch spots. Begrudgingly I traded places, relinquishing the honey hole to my arch rival. Randy stuck his tongue at me knowing his fortune would change. His luck stayed so bad he couldn’t have caught a cold.
I pulled five fish from his spot; his bobber never twitched. He sat there dumbfounded, eyes tearing.
I next convinced Randy his hat scared the fish. He promptly removed it, providing the mid-day sun a fresh target and Randy his first catch of the day ... a royal sun burn.
To Randy’s glee, Dad had us switch poles. Three minutes later I landed my largest; a two-pounder. Randy demanded his pole. I complied happily.
I landed another and tossed it back as Randy watched in awe. "Too big ... too tough to eat," I concocted. "We don’t want tough fish." He asked why I’d kept the two-pounder. I explained mom needed to know how big the things got. Randy was not amused. Neither was Dad.
A bit past five, Dad gave the word it was time to go. Randy sat dejected. Dad consoled him.
I’d caught sixteen bullheads; nine keepers. Unexplainably, Randy had not a bite. I taunted my vanquished foe. "If you’re nice to me I’ll let you eat some," I offered.
Back at the house, Mom took pictures of the fishermen and fish. I grinned wide – the bullheads looked happier than Randy.
Dad cleaned one to demonstrate, then left instructing: "Son, you caught them, you clean them." Dad gone, I propositioned Randy: "How about a quarter to clean fish?" He eagerly agreed – big money at the time.
Finished, I extolled "good job," slapped Randy squarely on his broiled neck and handed him a dime. "You only cleaned three fish – ten cents’ worth." I trumpeted. "The quarter was for all nine." He ran to tell Dad.
Dad came out and scolded: "Why must you always tease your brother? You’re bullheaded! Be careful, you could be in trouble some day, he may grow up bigger than you."
"No way Dad," I countered, "Never going to happen ... the kid can’t fish."
Tripp Holmgrain is an avid outdoorsman, missing his little brother. Email him at tripp@theoutdoortripp.com.
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The Outdoor Tripp
www.theoutdoortripp.com
"All great truths begin as blasphemies."
Posts: 805 | From: Texas | Registered: Mar 2005
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Cdog911
"There are some ideas so absurd only an intellectual could believe them."--George Orwell.
Member # 7
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posted July 03, 2005 05:53 AM
Reminds me of when my older brother and I would go with our friends and "fish" Bell Creek. Or when our grandpa took us to catch bullheads. We thought he was after the big'uns with us, and to us, they were big. Looking back, the big'uns were the times we got to share. I still miss Grandpa and his blue striped overalls. Never go fishing for cats that I don't think about him a little. I guess that's how it's supposed to be, huh?
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I am only one. But still, I am one. I cannot do everything, but still, I can do something; and, because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.
Posts: 5438 | From: The gun-lovin', gun-friendly wild, wild west | Registered: Jan 2003
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Leonard
HMFIC
Member # 2
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posted July 03, 2005 04:39 PM
A couple things come to mind.
First, in my early years, I lived in suburban Minneapolis, and did a great deal of fishing.
Sure, I caught the occasional small mouth or once, a monster large mouth bass, and some panfish. We called them crappies; and sun fish, but out here they would be called blue gills.
My main quarry was rough fish, carp, suckers, sheepshead, dogfish and bullheads.
We would go down to the local golf course with a couple large coffee cans and flashlights. It wouldn't take very long to completely fill those cans with the largest nightcrawlers you have ever seen.
Next morning we would venture to a local lake and start cranking in bullheads by the dozens. They were so many that they were stunted, all the same size, 8-10 inches, but we could easily accumulate a pile two foot high and four feet across; literally hundreds. It was fun and an actual public service, the theory being that northerns and bass should eat perch and not choke and die, on bullheads.
You would think we would tire of it, but it never happened. We knew where to find crappies one day and twenty pound carp the next. I can't believe, looking back, that our parents were so unconcerned about where we were and what we were doing, but those were different times. I don't remember owning a lock for my bike?
We played marbles. Every kid had a whole collection of marbles of every size and shape. We played a game called Chase, and one called Pot, and another where we used a shooter to bump other marbles out of a circle drawn in the dirt. I had a fair collection of prized agates and stars and clears, and just about every type of marble known to man or boy...and a genuine leather marble bag that belonged to my father. Pretty fancy stuff.
We had bean shooters, or pea shooters, if you prefer? We made rubber band guns from inner tubes, parachutes from hankerchiefs and always carried a salt shaker in season, for green apples, found in every yard, but ours.
I owned some nice frog gigs, too. I used to patrol the banks of the creeks, and rivers, anything was fair game.
My only source of income was golf balls. I always had a couple drawers full, expertly graded, that I would sell along the 4th and 5th hole. Two for a dollar, three for a dollar, or thirty-five cents a piece. I'm not kidding, those golf balls provided me my financial freedom. The only thing I really needed was hooks and sinkers and nickle bags of popcorn with an Orange Crush.
I don't have to mention that I seldom watched the dinky television screen, prefering more cerebral things such as Batman, Donald Duck, (hated Mickey Mouse) Combat Kelley, Rubberman, Blackhawks, all the Superheros.
When we moved to California, I'm sure that my mom threw out a whole closet full of valuable comic books. Boy, they would be worth something today! Who knew?
And cards. Baseball cards, football cards, airplane cards. At any one time, I usually had several pounds of flat squares of bubble gum stacked up in drawers.
One pair of hitop black tennis shoes would last me all year.
I'm sure my kids or grandkids couldn't relate to my childhood but I wouldn't change places with any of them.
Good hunting. LB
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EL BEE Knows It All and Done It All.
Don't piss me off!
Posts: 31498 | From: Upland, CA | Registered: Jan 2003
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The Outdoor Tripp
Knows what it's all about
Member # 619
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posted July 03, 2005 05:11 PM
Leonard,
It was a different time. It was a better time. Much better.
It's amazing: Though our ages and geographies differ, our upbringings and childhood experiences sound remarkably similar.
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The Outdoor Tripp
www.theoutdoortripp.com
"All great truths begin as blasphemies."
Posts: 805 | From: Texas | Registered: Mar 2005
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Locohead
World Famous Smoke Dancer
Member # 15
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posted July 05, 2005 10:02 AM
Tripp,
Great Story!
I won't tell the whole story because I've told it before. The summary is 8 fish for my dad. We switched poles and he caught 8 more. We've fished together my whole life and this only happened once. It was very humbling.
Leon',
I enjoyed reading your post too. ![[Smile]](smile.gif)
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I love my critters and chick!!!! :)
Posts: 2219 | From: CO | Registered: Jan 2003
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The Outdoor Tripp
Knows what it's all about
Member # 619
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posted July 05, 2005 10:09 AM
Thanks Loco. Appreciate it much.
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The Outdoor Tripp
www.theoutdoortripp.com
"All great truths begin as blasphemies."
Posts: 805 | From: Texas | Registered: Mar 2005
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