Two or three times a year, my dad and I are able to slip off on a night fishing trip. It is our time together, plus we both really look forward to tearing into ether the walleye or crappie, without having to deal with other fisherman.
So, after having to cancel several trips, we were thrilled to finally get a chance to set out to our home lake (in Oklahoma), to beat up on some post cold front (night bite) paper mouths.
The front had moved the fish back off the bank, and onto the numerous deep brush piles provided by the ODWC. We would simply anchor up, set out the floats, sip coffee, and wait for the fish to bite.
We arrived just after dark to find the lake calm and peaceful. It was a beautiful night. The spring peepers were chirping, and even an old bared owl was hooting off in the distance. The only other sound was the waves gently lapping the sides of the boat.
After a couple of stabs at getting the anchor just right in the lite breeze, we had the boat sitting perfectly on the bushes, and without even spooking the fish.
We had just got settled in, when dad's bobber went under. He set the hook and hauled in a big beautiful black slab-crappie. It was on! They were biting, and we were finally at the right place at the right time. He quickly re-baited, and then -- with a grin -- proceeded to pour us both up a hot steaming cup of coffee.
But just as I was taking a sip, a boat roared around the end of the point that protects the little fishing cove, and headed directly at us. They were racing in our direction with their spotlight blaring into our low light adjusted eyes.
My first thought was they were coming over to shoot the bull. Boy was I wrong! I soon realize, to my shock, that they intended to fish our spot, made evident as they set their boat down and started grabbing for fishing poles.
Their trolling motor crashed into our brush pile just seconds before their giant wake crashed into our boat, knocking dad's coffee over. I had to grab the handrails to keep from being slung out of the boat myself.
We just sit there with our mouths gaping as they jousted out their giant fourteen-foot doodle-sock poles, and started fishing. Then the large bottled assed (two foot shoulders and a four foot ass) Arkie that drove the boat, said with an alarmingly loud voice "I guess you fellers can't fish both sides of this f#$ing brush pile."
How do you deal with a brain dead SOB like that?
Well, all I am going to say is after a crash course in fishing Etiquette he had a change of heart, and decided to leave.
So for those of you who's daddy never taught you any better, here are the first three rules of fishing Etiquette 101.
1.Show some class!
2.Give people their space on the lake!
3.When someone beats you to the spot you want to fish, smile and wave, and then up get up off your big ass and show up earlier next time.
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