Sunday, July 7, 2019

A Monster Bowfin

Noah and I set out to fish in the afternoon with pike being the main focus. I brought a rig ready for bowfin, but I was definitely more interested in getting a big pike. Not long after arriving, I had a northern blow up on a big Buford style fly. It wasn't a big fish, but it was a great take. The fish just came flying out of the grass, sending spray and making a tremendous noise. It was a solid fight too, enough so that I thought it might be a big fish.


We went awhile without anything but a couple yellow perch on my end and missed takes on Noah's end. Then, I saw a monster emerge from the weeds. At first glance I thought pike, because it was clearly over 30 inches long and as big around as my thigh. But in seconds it became clear that this was a bowfin. The biggest bowfin I had ever seen. With my whole body shaking, I made a cast, and the fish moved to the fly. I got an even better look at it and swore under my breath. It ate, and I hammered it. I yelled to Noah "Bowfin, monster f****** bowfin!" The fish barely reacted. It gave one headshake, then started coming up in the water column and towards me. It came to within four feet and then stopped. For a moment, it just glared at me with it's beady little eye. It looked me up and down, and I looked it up and down. I was already shook, but now I was realizing the gravity of what I was seeing. I was looking at a god damn dinosaur. This fish was every bit of 15 pounds, the biggest, baddest meanest bowfin in the marsh. This bowfin probably chases pike around and eat three pound bass. This bowfin was exactly what my words to Noah described it as... a monster. A f****** monster.

It apparently assessed the situation and decided it didn't like the looks of me. It took off up the stream channel with authority, not especially quickly, but I was not stopping it.

And then, my fly cam out. And everything else. And I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut. I kind of felt like crying. That bowfin was truly a once in a lifetime size fish on fly tackle. They don't get that big often. I'll likely be looking for that fish for the rest of my life. Fish like that... I don't even know what to say, really. That sucked.

Sometimes, I hate fishing.

If you enjoy what I'm doing here, please share and comment. It is increasingly difficult to maintain this blog under dwindling readership. What best keeps me going so is knowing that I am engaging people and getting them interested in different aspects of fly fishing, the natural world, and art. Follow, like on Facebook, share wherever, comment wherever. Also, consider supporting me on Patreon (link at the top of the bar to the right of your screen, on web version). Every little bit is appreciated! Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, john, and Christopher, for supporting this blog.

2 comments:

  1. Sometimes the sting of losing a fish makes catching the next one that much better. You'll redeem yourself

    ReplyDelete