By Some Guy:
Several years ago when I was living in the Omaha area I had a friend named Bob. Bob was in the Air Force stationed at Offutt air base. He was originally from up-state New York near Syracuse. One thing we had in common was we both loved to fish.
I have always been an avid fisherman. My father says I caught my first fish while I was still in diapers. Having grown up in northwest Iowa my fishing talents evolved around catching what the local rivers, ponds and lakes had to offer. Mostly catfish, bullheads, bluegills and bass. Bob on the other hand grew up in an area where trout was king. In many eyes, trout is the “gentlemen’s” fish. The “junk” fish like bullheads can hardly compare.
Bob and I started fishing together shortly after we had met. In fact this was probably the only reason for our friendship. Bob was completely out of his element as far as fishing when it came to eastern Nebraska waters. Not many trout streams! But a lot of “muddy” water streams and man-made lakes. Myself on the other hand, these type of waters were no stranger to me.
As we explored the many fishing holes in the area, Bob became increasingly amazed at how I could catch fish out of almost anything. Keep in mind that compared to the cold water trout streams of his youth, these area ponds had to look like mud puddles to Bob. He often referred to them as such. And considering the general size of most trout caught, even an average bass would look like a lunker. I’m sure as a kid Bob never envisioned wading out onto the muddy waters of the Platte River, baiting a hook with seven day old chicken guts and ripping out a catfish large enough to eat his biggest trout in one gulp!
But Bob was after all, a fisherman. When in Rome, do as the Romans. Every time we would go fishing he would be amazed at how many fish I would catch. Keep in mind, when trout fishing five or six seems to be a good day. The first five gallon bucket of bluegills Bob and I caught together had to seem Biblical in proportion! As the months went on Bob was thinking that I was one of the greatest anglers of our time. And of course, who was I to argue with someone as “refined” as a trout fisherman?
One day Bob came over to the house and told me about Iowa’s urban trout stocking program that he had read about in the newspaper. This is a program where the Iowa DNR stocks lakes with hatchery raised trout in urban lakes to provide trout fishing opportunities to Iowans outside of the northeast part of the state. The northeast region is the only part of Iowa that has cold water streams that harbor naturally occurring trout. Sauganash Lake near Council Bluffs was one of the lakes stocked with rainbow trout. Bob convinced me that a trip to Sauganash was in order.
Bob was in his element with this trout fishing excursion. Me, I knew absolutely nothing about trout! The only thing I knew about trout fishing was watching Curt Gowdy on the T.V. show American Sportsman. The closest things we had to trout growing up were creek chubs. As kids, my brothers and I would try our hands at tying flies and heading to the stream that ran by our house. We would pretend we were the great Curt Gowdy and that the chubs were trout. To a kid they kind of looked the same. By the way, chubs taste like crap when cooked over a campfire. But they do make excellent cut bait for catfish. As it turns out, how Curt Gowdy caught a trout on a T.V. show in Colorado had very little to do with catching one in a southwest Iowa lake.
When we got to the lake Bob immediately starting doing his strange ”trout catching things”. He was using strange looking hooks and weird looking little bait things. Nothing he was doing made any sense to me. Not wanting to diminish Bob’s view of me as a “great and legendary” angler, I decided to disguise my ignorance of the task at hand. I told Bob, “You know, I heard there are some nice crappies in here.” “I think I will give them a try.” So I proceeded with one of my secret crappie catching techniques of suspending a night crawler below a bobber and drifting it next to a weed bed.
It wasn’t long before I had a bite. I set the hook and reeled in. I thought, “H,mm, a chub.” “Strange colored thing.” “Nice sized chub though, about 8”.” “Kind of fancy!” Next thing I know Bob is raising one heck of a commotion about this fancy looking chub. He exclaimed, “You got one!” “Boy he’s a nice one too!” “What were you using?” . . . and on, and on, and on. By the fuss that Bob was putting on I surmised that this fancy chub was actually a trout! Go figure. I guess all my “trout fishing” training as a kid paid off.
Bob had a strange way he looked at me while he was carrying on about the fancy chub. Almost like a small boy who actually got to meet his sports hero in person. Not wanting to dash Bob’s feeling of being in the presence of greatness, I never let on that I had no idea what this fish was, or that it was just luck that caught it. And there was no way I would ever let on that I actually considered using this fish as cut bait!
Bob soon abandoned all his “fancy” trout stuff and started to implement my secret trout catching technique of suspending a night crawler below a bobber and drifting it next to a weed bed. We fished a while longer and I managed to catch two more of these trout. With each trout I caught, my friend would look at me with more awe and admiration. By the third I had attained a God-like status in his eyes. I suppose catching three fancy chubs out of a mud puddle in Iowa will do this to an accomplished trout fisherman from up-state New York. Bob never did catch one, which led more to the admiration.
When we decided to call it quits, Bob said, “Boy you got some nice eating there!” Not wanting to deflate my God-like status, and expose my complete lack of knowledge on how to properly clean and cook trout I said, “Bob, why don’t you take the fish?” I’m sure that ripping the skin off with a pair of pliers and frying them in a handful of lard is not proper trout etiquette. Bob said, “You don’t want them?” “Why?” I told Bob, “I think you would appreciate them more than I would.” “I’m sure it has been awhile since you had fresh caught trout.” “I’ll bet they’ll bring back some great memories of home for you.” It was at this time that I became a kind and gracious God.
