J.B. Webb — Mama said there'd be days like this

Herald Democrat

Actually, my mother wasn’t a big fan of fishing. She liked eating fish but she could care less about catching them. That left it up to my Grandpa and Grandma Webb to tote me to the creek and catch something to eat.

I’ve talked about some of the adventures for a growing boy from back then in earlier articles. Now I’m an old mule when it comes to fishing. I still use things my grandparents taught me.

One of our family members was G.W. Taylor, founder and owner of Taylor Tank Company of Gunter. He had a big aluminum boat. He would load it up with friends and family and go out and fish for sandbass at night. I remember looking at all the lanterns people had hanging over the side of their boats to draw bait fish. It often looked like a little town as the boats bunched up with each other.

When I was lucky enough to go out with them getting bait was free. We just went over to the Islands and took a long Seine and worked down the bank catching minnows and shad by the bucketful. That locked me into fishing and I’m still locked in today.

That being said, this week has made me look like a beginner in the fishing world. I never believe what the TV weather guessers say. Most times I’m right as storms seem to miss us or not happen at all. Now and then they get it right.

This week has been an example of believing your local weatherman. The forecast for Monday was chance of afternoon storms. That sounded good as it had been three days since the last time I was on the water.

I quickly hooked up and was off to Highport. Launching I could hear thunder but it was far off and I wasn’t going to get out in open water. The fish knew more than me — they were a no-show. It began to sprinkle and all I was wearing was a light jacket, supposedly water resistant, and jeans.

I just kept fishing and soon it was getting heavier, I fished on and all at once it was raining cats and dogs. By the time I found an empty slip to get in I was soaked head to toe. As I sat in the stall, the rain hitting the roof was deafening. It finally let up and I got to the courtesy dock.

I was going up the hill when the sky opened up again. I got in my truck and waited out this flood. When it finally let up, I backed in and went to my boat, which had water coming out of a drain. I hit the pump switch and it looked like a whale blowing.

I got it on the trailer, stopped and opened up all my drains while Moby the Whale was still pumping water. I got home and had to take everything out of my boat and put a big fan on it. Tuesday it was still drying out.

Wednesday with everything dry I went to Highport again. It was a good day to be on the water. I backed the trailer in the water. I hadn’t been in a hurry and suddenly I remembered I had forgot to put the plugs in. I had backed off the trailer forcing more water in. Quickly putting it back on the trailer, I spent some time waiting for the water to run out.

From 8-10 a.m. I fished — notice I didn’t say anything about catching. My boat-house pattern didn’t work. During that time I tried other baits; none of them got a smell much less a hit.

My boat looked like a drunk porcupine with all the rods out. At 10:30, while I was working a Rebel Black and Sliver Pop R, a fish smashed it. A nice spotted bass was in my hand. The rising lake has put some weed patches in the water. I pulled out a bait I don’t use very often on Texoma and tied it on. It was a Booyah Pad Crasher Jr Frog.

I tossed it up on the bank then hopped it off in the weeds. As I was moving it there was a commotion in the weeds and my Frog was gone. Setting the hook, I pulled another big spot to the boat. I kept tossing the Frog at anything in the water and now and then I’d get a strike or catch one. They turned on and I caught fish until 1 p.m. and then it stopped.

Fish were crushing the Frog when you could get one to hit. Now why they turned on I didn’t try to figure; I was just chunking. I don’t consider Texoma a good Frog lake unless the water is in the weeds and grass, but that’s just me. When I quit, I had caught nine bass and a big black crappie. None of the bass were big — one might have went three pounds — but they were all keepers.

It’ll be interesting to see how the Texas High School Bass Fishing Championship turns out this weekend. If you want to see how the teams do, the take off and weigh-in will be at the Dam Site parking lot. I’ll also get you the results of Joe Copeland's Future Bass Tournament Saturday at Alberta Creek.

I’m a little scared of fishing with the luck I’ve been having. It’ll be me and Charlie in the boat and that’s scary enough.