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Lake life

New fishing excuse: Curse of Yogi

You don’t always have to catch fish to have fun on the lake. My fishing buddy George and I haven’t been fishing together all summer for a variety reasons, mainly because he doesn’t get off much unless it rains. Need I say more? But we don’t have to catch fish to have fun. Like our most recent trip.

I had a good day bright and early. George is a New York Yankees fan and he has this NY license plate on his truck. I may or may not have dissed the license plate before we went out on the lake.  George wanted to know what I had done and why I was laughing. When I told him, he said, “The curse of Yogi will be on us today.”

FullSizeRender-22We hadn’t been far when I landed a ginormous largemouth bass. Well, it would have looked ginormous to a small shad. As we eased through a patch of small stickups, we heard a giant splash. It was a dog. He came out of the woods and swam right out to the boat and all around the boat and then right through the area we were fishing and then on to the bank.

“Curse of Yogi,” George said.

A few minutes later, George yelled, “Look at that big squirrel.”

I turned and looked toward the bank. “Fox or cat?”, I asked.

“No, I said ‘SWIRL’ George said he said. And it was on the other side of the boat. He had already cast his funny looking six-year-old-straight-tail-no-action-they-don’t-even-make-them-anymore-bought-at-a-garage-sale black plastic worm in the center of the now disappearing ripples on the water’s surface.

Oh, swirl.

In just a few minutes, he stood up. That’s a sure sign a fish took George’s bait about two minutes ago. George is the fair minded type. If a bass bites his artificial worm, he doesn’t rush to set the hook quickly like 99.99999% of other bass fishermen. He gives the fish a chance to change its mind or swim with his lure to another location in the lake before driving the hook home. This one held on, so he finally reared back and set the hook. Pow! The line went limp. Broken.

“That was maybe the biggest fish in the lake,” he said. Maybe. Sure it was. The big ones always get away.

I know, I know. It was Yogi. Maybe the dog was named Yogi. He had run all the way to the other side of the cove and suddenly dove in and swam right back to the boat, around the boat, through where we were fishing and back to the bank again.

Okay, I’m sorry Yogi. It was like deja-vu, all over again. But I was still trying to catch fish. It ain’t over til it’s over, you know. But we caught no more. Even Napoleon has his Watergate. Really, I’m sorry Yogi.

Later as we eased up to the boat ramp, a big fox squirrel ran across the road.

“Look George, another swirl”! He just rolled his eyes. Apparently that is a family trait. Yogi curse or no.


The morning wasn’t a total loss. George is an expert marksman and he had agreed to sight in my new rifle and scope for me. After our trip, we went where he has a little shooting range set up. He did it for me, and it was no easy task in the dust and heat. I am very appreciative. And he only used $63.20 worth of bullets. Just kidding.

Seriously, thanks George. I have a lot of things I’m not good at and one of the top things I’m not good at is shooting a rifle consistently. Oh, I guess I can shoot it consistently, just not hit things I am aiming at consistently. But now not only is my new rifle ready to go. I also have a built in excuse if I miss one. It’s George’s fault.

Or Yogi’s.

FullSizeRender-23EDITOR’S NOTE:   



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