FMF

great post...keep em coming! welcome on board!!!

JayR

Glad to see you found the place Bill.
As mentioned in the email, the group here is top notch and open minded.

Jason

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I really don't care what you have to say about me, just as long as you mention my name

Reaux

Thanks everyone for the warm welcome. Glad you all enjoyed the first one. Here are a few more, more or less fishing related. And in them you'll be able to figure out how I got my user name.

Got to get over ten posts to see everyones pictures, huh?

Reaux

Reaux

Some of you might have seen this one elsewhere.

Reaux

Hooked

October 1986, a weekend night, and the Red Sox were playing the Mets in the World Series; ?The Sox can win it all tonight,? I thought as I drove south to the Cape Cod Canal. The tide was right and would be falling until almost two in the morning; inexplicably, even though I was a lifelong Red Sox fan, I couldn?t bear to watch the big game, just too much tension, so I was going fishing for striped bass instead.

?Good idea? I thought as I walked along the canal, ?Everybody should be at home or in a bar watching the game while I have the place pretty much to myself.? Pop! Pop! I could hear the bass working along the riprap; occasionally I?d see the splash and rain of frightened silversides as they tried to escape the bass slashing through their school. ?Piece of cake? I thought as I unlimbered my fly rod; rolling my line out, I was soon hooked-up with a nice bass, and then another. This went on for quite a bit, and then, like a moth to flame, I thought ?Gee it must be the fourth or fifth inning by now -- I wonder how the Red Sox are doing?? So I went back to the truck to listen in on the radio.

Back at the truck, I saw that I had company -- another vehicle. ?Must be other fisherman,? I thought as I stowed my rod away. Then I saw a shadowy figure approach. ?Hi? he said as he got closer; then ?Could you help us? My buddy has a hook in his thumb.? ?So why don?t you guys go to a hospital or something? I asked. ?We aren?t from around here, and we don?t know where to go? he replied as we walked over to their vehicle. Over at their vehicle, we introduced ourselves, and as I turned on my flashlight I got my first glimpse of Robertos? predicament. It made my skin crawl to watch him manipulate a large treble hook, which was driven dead center into the middle of his thumb. The hook was still attached to a large lure (stripers often like large offerings); furthermore, there was a second set of treble hooks rattling around as Roberto wiggled the deeply embedded hook. ?OK? I said, ?I can help you guys. I know how to get that hook out. I?ll coach you but you?ll have to do the extraction yourselves . . .agreed??

They agreed and we set about getting ready. First, I asked if they had pliers large enough to cut the lure away from Roberto. They did, and after removing the lure, we turned our attention to the two exposed hooks of the treble hook and cut them off as well. We were then left with a single hook embedded in Roberto?s thumb. ?Got any thirty or forty pound test line?? I asked Clifford. ?Yes, in the back,? he replied. ?Cut off about three feet and tie it into a loop,? I instructed. After this was done, I told them, ?We?re going to need a little teamwork for this next part. Clifford, you?re going to need to depress the eye of the hook and hold it down with your finger. Roberto will take the loop of line and place it in the bend of the hook and when he?s ready he?ll pull back in a direction parallel to the shank of the hook.? After they got set, I asked, ?You guys got any questions? No? Okay, Roberto, remember to pull in line with the hook shank.? Roberto took a deep breath and suddenly made a short sharp pull back. ?Damn!? he exclaimed, ?I didn?t feel a thing,? as he held the loop with the freed hook rocking gently within it.

They thanked me and with a feeling of satisfaction I made my way back to my truck and turned the radio on just in time to hear this fateful call: ?It?s a ground ball to first . . . and it?s through Buckner?s legs.?

Fishing lures are meant to imitate something alive so it shouldn?t be surprising that dogs express a keen interest in that moving wiggly thing. Some dogs will even do you the grand favor of retrieving your lure. Hooks and dogs don?t belong together. Accidents can and will happen. The worst I ever experienced occurred when a retriever got hooked in the leg and then tried to bite the offending lure off only to get hooked a second time. Even if you never attempt to personally remove an embedded hook it is critical to have pliers of sufficient strength so that you can cut through the hooks. As in the case of the retriever, a dog, or a person can become hooked in more than one place at once, and that is when the ability to cut the hooks comes in especially handy.

Sometimes the hook goes all the way in and then out in a different location; in this situation, cut off or mash the barb down and back the hook out. In other cases, it may be possible to push the hook through and then, as above cut or mash the barb. In the case of a deeply embedded hook where pushing the hook through is not feasible or possible, a simple alternative removal technique is available. I don?t know by whom, or where this technique was first developed, but I do know from personal experience that the people manning hospital emergency rooms are quite adept at this technique.

As with removing porcupine quills, your dog probably won?t take kindly to your ministrations; if this is the case, use a muzzle if one is available or tape the dog?s muzzle shut. If you are dealing with only one hook, proceed to the next step; if there are multiple hooks dangling about, use the pliers to cut or otherwise remove the extra hooks so that you only have one hook to deal with. Next, make a loop of strong line about twelve or fifteen inches in length and place it such that it comes up snug against the bend of the hook. Finally, press down with your finger on the eye of the hook; press it down all the way to the dog?s skin and hold it there; make sure to keep everything on a vertical plane. Depressing the eye of the hook positions it so that the bend of the hook acts as a shield, preventing the barb from engaging flesh. The final step is to give a quick (not violent) pull back directly in line with the shank of the hook.

Reaux

It is a sort of nasty day out there. Hope these help pass the time for you.

Reaux


There are pivotal moments in everyone?s life, not many, I would wager, that have a lobster as their catalyst. I was reminded of such a moment this past weekend when Reaux and I settled down to a lobster dinner. Paula and her sister had gone off for the weekend, a girls weekend? sort of thing, and for some reason I decided to have a lobster for dinner. Now Reaux loves lobster, he especially likes lobster roe, and I have to be careful to keep him from the lobster shells which given the chance he devours. Unfortunately for Reaux, and myself since I'm the one that gets to clean up, lobster shells are indigestible and invariably cause a case of the urka gurkas where Reaux barfs up a voluminous mass of partially digested red chitin. This time Reaux got a little lobster roe and some lobster juice but no shells, everyone was happy. And as Reaux and I settled into a digestive stupor I remembered another lobster that caused a seminal change in my life.

It was a time between wars, and dad had just returned to civilian life after serving the previous three years as a dentist in the armies occupation forces in Germany. After being mustered out he set up a private practice in Marthas Vineyard, where he was born and raised. His practice proved to be successful as he had lots of patients, but there was a problem and that was in getting them to pay their bills. It wasn't that his patients were dead beats as they paid as best they could and often paid in unconventional ways . . .a barter arrangement if you will.

It was the practice in those days for trawler crews to rotate the crewmen who would receive all of the incidental catch, lobsters being amongst the most prized. Dad had just billed Augustus Silvia for whom he just done a lot of bridgework eventually Gus?s turn came up as recipient of the incidental catch, and amongst his take was a monster lobster. I remember this lobster, all thirty or so pounds of it. It is one of my earliest memories.

Gus had left the lobster in the sink; nobody locked doors back then, with a note that this lobster was in partial payment for the work my dad had billed him for. I remember standing there, watching the bedlam as my parents prepared the lobster for the cooking, since no pot was large enough they used an oval galvanized wash tub instead. The tub was large enough to stretch across the width of the stove and rested on a burner at each end. It was nearly my bedtime as they but the lobster in the tub. In awe I stood there in my gray brier rabbit suit which was minus its tail; the beagles had gotten it; holding my beloved stuffed brier rabbit which was minus an ear also courtesy of the beagles I could see that they were having trouble fitting it into the tub. My last recollection of the lobster was of one enormous claw lolling out of the tub. I later learned that that one claw had fed four people.

The lobster proved to be the last straw for dad, despairing of ever receiving payment in money for his services he soon returned to the army. I grew up an army brat as a result of that mega lobster and have no regrets. Still I wonder what might have been had dad stuck it out and had actually purchased those two hundred acres of waterfront in Chilmark that he had his eye on.

Reaux

Hang in there, just a couple more, got to get the number of posts up.

Reaux

Splash

Last Christmas I bought a radio controlled model tugboat as a gift to my friend Paulo owner of Mulligan and now Molly. The idea being to attach a fishing line to it and see if we could remotely send it out onto Long Pond in Maine and catch fish with it. This past vacation we had the opportunity to try.

First we decided on a trial run, all three dogs were in attendance. "Well it floats once it takes on a little water for ballast" I commented to Paulo. "Okay, Bill, lets see if the remote control works" he replied. With that he started the boat up, Mulligan and Molly looked on in interest; Reaux on the other hand went absolutely ballistic. Leaning far over the dock trying to get at that 'thing' barking incessantly, then he jumped into the docked boat crashing fishing gear asunder all in an effort to get at that 'thing'. Did I mention that he was barking his fool head off?

Convinced that one and all on the lake could hear the ruckus we decided to drag Reaux away and put him in the cabin where he wouldn't be tormented by the thing. After further testing we removed the boat from the water and took the batteries out to re-charge them. "Let's try it out for real tomorrow when Steve gets here" Paulo suggested.

Next evening with everyone present we tried again, this time with the fishing line attached. As a precaution I put Reaux's life jacket on him. Steve looked at me quizzically as I tightened all the straps. Noticing his look I told him "You'll see why shortly." As before everything went calmly up until the point when we started up the tug boat with its fishing line, and as before Reaux went into a berserk rage. Eventually he worked the other dogs up as well, to the point where Mulligan not paying close attention to the edge of the dock misplaced a foot and unable to regain control tumbled into the lake with a splash. He came up swimming though and I managed to grab him by the scruff of the neck and haul him back onto the dock. Standing on the dock I watched Mulligan shake himself, none the worse for his sudden immersion. Then I heard Paula calling me "Bill, Bill look behind you" turning I noticed that Molly's leash now led directly into the water where a bug eyed Molly was getting her first swimming lesson. Reaux was still barking non stop as I reached down and got Molly back onto the dock (Glens do look funny when they are totally soaked BTW). The canine chaos was brought to an abrupt halt as the tugboat, with bass attached, slowly listed to port then turned over and began to seriously take on water. After rescuing two dogs and one tugboat we decide to quit the evening sport and reflect over cocktails on what had just transpired.

To be continued. . . .

Reaux

Still hanging in there? Here is the last one for awhile. Rather a somber one, scared the bejesus out of me at the time.

Reaux

Lifesavers

Paulo is a diabetic.

Maine in its wisdom has recently decreed that henceforth all streets, roads, and lanes must have a name. Paulo and I commented on this as we drove north for the Memorial Day weekend. "Must be for those 911 calls," I ventured "What's your number?" "Don't know, in fact I'm not even sure what our road is now called" Paulo replied.

We enjoyed several days of fishing from the dock and eventually launched the boat, and all the while the dogs played, and ran and played. We eventually ran out of dog treats and Paulo went to the store and got some Milk Bone Biscuits (only thing available) which the dogs eagerly scarfed down. As we prepared for bed that night Paulo, as is his habit, took a reading of his blood sugar. "What's it read?" I asked. "Oh, 125, should be fine" Paulo replied. With that we retired with our dogs to our separate bedrooms.

Now, I'm known as a relatively heavy sleeper, and while on vacation a very determined one as well; 10:00 AM being in my mind's eye a reasonable time to awaken. At 3:00 AM I heard commotion as Paulo let Mulligan out, "Those Milk Bones must not have agreed with Mully" I thought as I turned and put the pillow over my head. Hours latter I heard Mulligan whining, with Reaux chiming in, in counterpoint. Then Mulligan let out a strange bark and Reaux started vigorously scratching at the door. "What the hell?" I thought as I slipped my pants on and went out to check on things. Then I heard . . .a moan coming from Paulo's room.

Flashlight in hand I knocked on Paulo's door, no answer. I tried opening the door and met immediate resistance, pushing hard with all my might I managed to open the door about ten inches or so. There, lying before me, obstructing the door lay Paulo, face bloodied, and vacant eyes staring unresponsive to the glare of my flashlight's beam. Mulligan his eyes reflecting perplexed concern was sitting by Paulo's knees, Reaux sensing something amiss huddled under a table in the far corner of the room. Rushing to the refrigerator I opened Paulo's emergency orange juice container, poured a glass full, unable to get the unresponsive Paulo to drink I dipped my fingers into the juice, and then stuck my juice-laden fingers into his mouth. Then in a convulsion he knocked the sucrose container (evidently what he was reaching for when he fell out of bed) in my direction. Hastily opening the container I popped a tablet under his tongue, then another. Still no response, I grabbed the phone and told the comatose Paulo, "You're not coming too, I'm calling 911."

For the first time in my life I dialed those magic numbers. I was in immediate contact with one Jeremy York at the Sheriff s Office in Augusta, thirty miles away, he was monitoring the 911 calls for the night. Jeremy asked, "What's the problem?? ?Diabetic coma" I replied. "Is he conscious?" "Well his eyes are open, but he not responding to anything." "Okay, stay calm, where are you located?" I gave him the new name to the road and then told him we didn?t know what the number was, the road having just been named. "Look all I know is that you head towards Castle Island from Route 27 and turn right at the birch tree with the green reflector above a red reflector, if they get to Castle Island they've gone too far" I stated in rising anxiety. "It's Okay, they'll be there soon, turn your outside lights on" Jeremy urged.

Gathering up the dogs, we went outside so that I could tie them up out of the way, and there In the distance I could hear the wail of a siren. "So this is what the lake looks like just before dawn" I mused as the loons called out seemingly in response to the siren's wail. Soon there where five EMT's in the house administering to Paulo, hooking him up to an IV and an EKG they eventually restored him to consciousness. They then bundled him up and after securing Paulo in the ambulance rushed to the nearest hospital. At the hospital Paulo didn't initially register a temperature, their thermometer being calibrated to start at 93 degrees, so in addition to being in a severe sugar low Paulo was suffering from hypothermia. After replenishing Paulo's IV the hospital personnel checked his blood sugar which read 29, this after the orange juice, the sucrose tablets, the sugar the EMT's had forced down his throat, and the initial IV. In the end everything went well, and soon Paulo was released and I drove him back to the cabin. We were rather subdued the rest of the week . . .thinking about things.

I am thankful to the state of Maine for their foresight in mandating that all roads be named, Jeremy York, the EMT's, the hospital staff, and above all Mulligan and Reaux for rousing me from my slumber - we came that =><= close.

Fin City

WOW !!!

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Reel Draggin' Tackle

Welcome aboard. I am looking forward to more great stories.

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