By Some Guy
Luck is a strange thing. Nobody can understand it, but everybody wants it, as long as it is good. There are a few people in existence who actually want bad luck though. I like to avoid these people in my life. For centuries mankind has developed theories on luck. Many superstitions and icons or symbols have developed over the centuries concerning luck. These are either supposed to bring good luck or ward off bad luck.
Modern man still clings to these ancient symbols and superstitions. The horseshoe is supposed to be a symbol of luck. I knew an old guy one time that always hung horseshoes over his doorways “for luck”. I asked him one day, “Do you really think those things are lucky?” He replied, “It didn’t fall on your head when you came in did it?” “Ain’t that lucky?” Maybe he knew more about how he hung them than I did, because I didn’t find that particularly lucky. The rabbit’s foot is another symbol of luck I never quite understood. If it’s so lucky, how come the rabbit lost it?
I had a friend one time I believe was the most superstitious human who ever walked the face of the earth. He was an older guy very set in his ways. He was obsessed with trying to improve his “luck”. Every aspect of his life revolved around his obsession. He had a lucky hat, lucky fishing pole, lucky paper clip, lucky everything! You name it, he had a lucky one. His name was Alvin, but we just all just called him Lucky. I was aware of Lucky’s strangeness, but it didn’t really hit home until I took a fishing trip with him one day.
As I pulled up to Lucky’s house he was crawling around in the grass. He stands up holding a piece of clover. “This is going to be a good day!” he said as he was recounting the leaves to make sure there were four. He grabbed his gear and brought it over to the truck. “Right here is my lucky rod!” as he was holding up an old steel pole. It looked like the rod was from the 30’s and I think the reel had more wire on it to hold it together than line. God only knows how old the tackle box was. “Oh, I almost forgot my lucky bucket”. He returned to the garage and came out with a broken up old piece of garbage. I doubted that it even held water. As I backed out of the driveway I thought, “This should be interesting.”
We got to the edge of town when Lucky said, “Go back!” “I forgot my lucky hat!” “What’s wrong with the one you have on?” “It ain’t my lucky one!” He had a look of panic on his face, so I turned around. Lucky came back out of the garage with a faded, torn, sweat encrusted, oil stained, piece of fabric on his head. O.K., got it, let’s go.” Before we made it to the edge of town I had to roll the window down because the odor emanating from that “hat” was burning my eyes. Thinking back on it I suppose that hat was lucky. He was lucky that it didn’t rot his hair off and infest his scalp with scabies just by wearing it! My head was itching just looking at it.
We got to the pond and Lucky headed to his lucky spot with his lucky rod and plopped his butt down on his lucky bucket. Being void of superstitions, I just tied on a lure and started making random cast into the pond in search of a bass. Lucky had quite a few bluegills in his bucket when I was tying on my third different lure. Lucky said, “These are pretty nice gills, you might want to get in on this!” I said, “I’m gonna make a few more casts for bass first, then I will.”
The only part of the pond I hadn’t tried yet was down by Lucky. I went down by him to make a cast. Lucky saw my crank bait and asked, “You ain’t gonna use that thing are ya?” “Yeah”, I said. “Why not?” “I’ve used it before here, it works good!” Lucky said, “It’s blue!” “Ain’t you got a red one?” “Blue ain’t lucky.” I just ignored Lucky’s rhetoric and tossed the blue crank bait out. The water exploded! As I was fighting that bass I yelled at Lucky, “How’s that for luck old man?” “Blue ain’t lucky huh!”
It was a real nice bass, about five pounds. As I got the bass up to the shore, all hell broke loose with the “luck gods”! Just as I reached down to pull out he fish, my foot slipped in the mud. My leg kicked out and hit Lucky’s lucky bucket. The brittle old bucket just shattered like a glass jar dropped on concrete. Lucky pitched off into the water. The dead opossum like thing on his head posing as a hat flew straight up in the air. Right at that time the crank bait popped out of the bass’ mouth and hit me right on the chin. I fell onto my back and Lucky’s hat came down right on my face!
I was wearing that “hat” like a pollen mask! It was pinned to my face by the crank bait. The stench was suffocating! I was frantically pulling at the hat trying to get some air. I could feel the hooks dig into my chin, but I didn’t care. I needed relief! I could hear Lucky yelling, “Stop!” “Let me get it!” I thought, “Good idea!” Without being able to see, I was just going to hurt myself. I was sure glad Lucky was the kind of guy who would look out for his buddies. Then I hear him say, “All you’re gonna do is tear it!” Hmm, I was being suffocated and poisoned and all this guy was concerned about was the hat! I knew then I needed a different fishing buddy.
After a short time Lucky had separated the crank bait from my chin and his hat. Lucky rubbed the fabric of the hat like a mother comforting an injured child and then put it back on. As he was picking up the pieces of his lucky bucket he said, “I think a little duct tape can fix this.” All Lucky said on the way home was, “I told you blue wasn’t lucky.”
As sportsmen we are always at the mercy of luck in pursuit of our quarry. Some of you might be saying to yourselves, “Not me!” “Luck has nothing to do with it!” “It’s all skill!” Get real guys! You’re telling me that when you cast out into a 5,000 acre lake, and having that walleye actually be right under your minnow, then it actually being hungry for a minnow at that exact moment has nothing to do with luck? Or you’re duck hunting a particular pond, and out of the infinite places on earth a duck can to fly to, he picks your little spot to land has nothing to do with luck? I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.
The sportsman is at the mercy of luck to bring a critter to them. Once given the opportunity, by luck, that is when skill can take over. No amount of “skill” can make a fish that ain’t hungry bite. The only way this is possible is if you net the fish, pry its mouth open and cram the bait down its throat with a stick. No amount of “skill” will make a deer decide to walk towards you instead of the 300 other ways it could go.
The sportsman can however do one thing to increase their “luck”, short of nailing horseshoe to your head, filling your pockets with dead animal feet or wearing a scabies infested hat. The one and only thing that works is to get out! You cannot kill or catch anything by sitting on the couch! This is a lesson I learned from my father. He understood this fact quite well.
One summer we had gone fishing every night for about a week without catching anything. I was lying on the couch one afternoon. I suppose I was doing normal kid things, watching cartoons, annoying the crap out of my sisters. You know, just typical kid things. Dad came home from work and found me on the couch. Dad had an aversion to this sort of activity. Anytime we had couch time he would find something for us to do. Mom would usually do the same thing. I suppose it was their knowledge of boys and how “nothing to do” can escalate to “annoying the crap out of sisters”. They also knew that too much couch time can totally ruin a boy.
Dad said, “Grab your pole, we’re going fishing.” I replied something like, “We ain’t caught anything all week.” “What’s the use?” Dad asked, “What’s the matter with you?” “Don’t you want to catch a fish?” “Yeah. . .” “Well, get your stuff!” “Nobody ever caught anything sitting on the couch!” We went fishing. As luck would have it the fish were biting pretty good. I pulled in a nice five pound catfish. Excitedly I yelled out, “Wow, look at this one!” “That was lucky!” Dad said, “I told you nobody ever caught anything sitting on the couch.” Dad of course was right.
Anytime I’m in fishing or hunting droughts I remember that afternoon. Just keep going, luck will catch up eventually. I realize now that the “sitting on the couch” message transcended hunting and fishing. It has served me well over the years.
