Cabin Fever

By T.L. Bush

I gave up fishing once. It was the worst day of my life!

I know this may sound strange for this time of year, but I had it, CABIN FEVER, I don’t usually get it until late winter when all the hunting seasons are over and it’s too damned cold to go out for just anything.  For over two weeks the wind in Iowa had blown over 25 miles an hour every day. I don’t know how many knots that is but there is only one not that was important. I was NOT going to take my boat out on the lake in that wind!

So here I sat, nothing good on TV (never is).  I couldn’t get in the writing mood.  There is only so much surfing the web that I could take. I almost started watching soaps full time.

The rain had soaked in and there was about 3 inches of mud under the grass. You couldn’t drive anywhere, even in four wheel drive, without fear of getting stuck.  My movements were like those in the movie, “The Living Dead”, slow, distant and all those other things. I actually started to feel sorry for the man in the mirror, unshaven, what hair he had was unkempt, teeth were being brushed individually instead of the usual back and forth scrubbing, droopy eyelids, and bags packed under each eye. It was tough being me for those days.

Finally we got a break in the weather. The rain had stopped for a while and I knew where there was a pond I used to catch Bass in. If I checked everything right I could drive so far on gravel, then walk the rest of the way in and I could cleans myself and remove the awful stench created by having not handled a single fish for days. I was going through withdrawals, I needed a fix, I needed a fish and the Grandkid’s Gold fish wouldn’t bite on anything I gave them. I tell you it was awful.

I keep my Suburban loaded with most of my fishing stuff so it didn’t take long to be underway. I drove to the gate, parked my rig, opened the back hatch and pre-walked my journey in my mind. Let’s see, looks like it could rain, hour-by-hour weather on my site said it might rain later but would probably go north. Fine, two rods, one tackle box, a stringer, that would be plenty of weight for a twenty minute walk to the pond and a few fish added to the stringer wouldn’t add that much weight for the return.

I’m finally off. There were tears in the corners of my eyes. Not tears of joy, the damned wind was still blowing about twenty miles an hour right into my face.

Go through the gate, wade the first six inch mud path, walk down the first hill, wade six more inches of mud and water in the bottom of the ditch. Ok I expected that but now the unexpected. A herd of cattle didn’t think I needed to be in there so a little detour was in order. Forty minutes later I arrived at the pond.

Strange thing, the fish aren’t biting! I could always catch Bass or Bluegill in this pond.  I believe old Neptune himself was laughing at me.  Finally about ten minutes pass and they start hitting my black worm. I hadn’t caught anything but they were biting.

All of a sudden I thought Jaws himself must have grabbed my bait. The line went tight and sounded like a high note on a Harp, the rod bent double and the drag was out to lunch. I was a happy man! We fought each other for a few minutes and then the fight was over. As I reeled in I would get an occasional wiggle. It felt like he had taken me into moss before he gave up and I was reeling in dead weight.

Wading knee deep into the mud and water in preparation for reaching down and grabbing the big beautiful mouth and safely landing the biggest Bass ever taken out of that pond. He was now within three feet of me and still under the surface of the muddy water. Now all I had to do was raise my rod tip bend down and grasp my prize.

Holy Crap it was the Loch Ness Monster, Jaws, Godzilla and every other SOB, I had ever seen in a movie that could and would eat you! It was a Snapping turtle the size of the top of a fifty-five gallon drum.

I looked into his eyes, he looked into mine, I was stuck in the mud and scared and he was hooked and pissed!

Without a second thought I reached for my belt, took out my knife and being the fine good hearted fellow I am, I set him free.

I pulled myself out of the mud and fought my way back up the bank, deciding I had had enough fishing for the day. The wind was starting to blow a little harder and the sky was shooting lightning, for some reason I hadn’t even noticed, so I began my journey out.

Just as I was crawling through and straddled the third wire up in a barbed wire fence that surrounded the pond, my cell phone went off, it sacred the Hell out of me, I thought I had been struck . Now hung-up on a barb, my pants were not going anywhere; I answered the phone in a less than pleasant tone. On the other end I heard, “You better get out of there. There’s a severe storm heading our way and it’s supposed to be here in less than half an hour. Oh, and it could have a tornado in it. Don’t get wet. Bye.”

Little did she know how trivial, a tornado sounded at that time.  I was hung-up on a barbed wire fence, now with two barbs embedded in my pants, lightning striking all around me, at least a forty-minute walk back, trying to convince those cows I was coming through even if they didn’t like it, the six inch mud was now deeper and I had been face to face with the grim reaper disguised as the Evil Do-err of the lake.

I didn’t catch any fish, I did get really wet, and the cows probably could sense my mood and the tornado didn’t form.

When I got to the final gate, the mud was almost knee deep; I turned and looked back at the pond and in my best Arnold possible I uttered, “I’ll Be Back.”

It ain’t over. I’ll tell you more the next time.