We always had some form of sporting literature lying around, old Field & Stream magazines or Outdoor Life that eventually would migrate enmasse to the John, where they joined “the sporting ladies” of National Geographic on their final tour before discard.
Whether it was upland game or bird hunting, there was always some story featuring a grizzled antisocial codger who had uncanny hounds, or Labrador retrievers that played outfield for a AAA club, whose noses ferreted out game via nonverbal link with master and whichever direction chaw was spat …
Duck hunters got the fellow that drank excessively, grabbed his nose, squatted, and bleated some high pitched noise via nasal resonance; “ee-bie, eenie, EE-nie” – causing birds to halt midair and dive for his blind like Stuka’s swarming Poland.
I always thought fishermen were shortchanged with all these colorful stories, we got the “snagged rubber boot” story, whose characters spoke precise English and observed semi-normal hygiene.
Some fellow living in a log cabin in West Yellowstone isn’t colorful enough, especially when he’s book-ended with wife, kids, and SUV. Relationships prove he’s mastered most of the social skills, and not the kind of hoary legend I’d pay to guide me through the woods..
Water-witching, old guys with uncanny skills, and outdoor exorcisms have been the exclusive purview of our gun-toting cousins, but all that’s changed – we’ve got our own brand of superhero …
Little red flags mark the writhing hoards of monstrous worms ready to do their master’s bidding – thousand yard stare from three tours with the LRRP’s in ‘Nam, it’s page one material, ladies …
… and if your Yellowstone guide can’t summon clouds of mayflies, you got ripped, Pilgrim.
Don’t laugh, it works! That’s the way we’d collect worms back in the Fla panhandle when I was a kid. The grunter’s hands will get awful sore rubbing that iron against the wooden stobb, but that was dad’s job.
I doubt the trick would work out here in Sonoma Co. Too dry.
Another method, if you have lawn with night crawlers in residense,
a probe rigged with 110 AC will bring yhem to the surface also,
Fellow Sports, we are looking at an atrocity being committed ! If interested, you can Google up “earthworms damage forests” and learn how earthworms (actually a non-native “invasive” species accidentally brought from Europe and Asia) do irreparable damage to our native hardwood forests by munching up all the seedling, wildflowers, ferns and organic “duff” on which new growth is nourished. Forests are permanently affected, and Minnesota is especially hard hit. The blame goes to those nasty bait anglers who bring in worms and then dump them at the end of the day. This isn’t old news, but it’s still a little known fact. Bait fishermen have many sins to answer for, but this may prove to be the worst.
I was going to chastise Troon for the “fry ’em” comment – but after reading Yomomma I’m not sure we don’t need to boost that to 220V …
@Mike – I insist you teach us all how to do it – that way we can sneak past the warden with all that “single and barbless” gear – then summon the wriggling hordes to do our bidding. If I had a choice between watching Lefty cast and seeing a seminar on worm summoning – Lefty would be mighty loneseome.
I just hope you don’t sport them deep blue eyes like Freemen – or hail from Arakis.
Everyone knows that a Yellowstone guide can, at best, summon clouds of mosquitoes; but never a mayfly, caddis, or stone.
Or so I’ve been told.
Note to self: tie more mosquitos.
In the Deep South pro bass fisherman are celebrities. Catfish noodlers are getting up there.
someones got to do it.