Category Archives: Fishing Ramblings – My Fishing Blog

Random thoughts and musings about fishing

Sitting In the Woods

Have you ever gone out into the woods and just sat, watched and thought? Deer hunters spend many hours doing exactly that every year, but I am afraid that is changing. Seeing pictures, and even worse, videos, posted while hunters are sitting on a deer stand makes me think they are missing one of the most important parts of hunting.

What do they miss? That little flash of movement that would reveal a huge buck if they were not staring at their phone? How about a beautiful cardinal eating matching red dogwood berries? Do they notice the golden yellow sweetgum leaf gliding through the air, pausing briefly when it hangs on an undergrowth limb, then falling to the forest floor to start the never-ending nutrient cycle over?

There is something magical if you actually observe nature. A squirrel waking up to start its morning commute to work, stretching and scratching on a limb near a hollow tree trunk, then scurrying carefully down the tree to search for breakfast. Did it bury the acorn if finds, stashing it away for today?

Do you miss the gurgle of the water over a tree trunk in the creek and think about where it has been and where it is going? How many times has it fallen on a hillside much like the one you watch and trickled into a creek? It then flows to a bigger creek following it to a river.

That river dumps into the ocean, where the water evaporates into the air. Wind currents move the clouds it forms back to a hillside, where it falls to start its timeless journey again.

The ancient white oak on the top of the hill has seen many changes. It now overlooks you sitting in a red oak a little way down the hill. Your perch grows up through the rocks on an old terrace, so the white oak watched it grow. Was it there while a dirt farmer struggled to flatten a small place for his crop, tediously moving shovels of dirt, then the rocks, to the terrace?

The rocks at the base of your tree had sat on the hill for thousands of years, slowly being exposed by eroding soil, then moved to their current position by the farmer. What has passed over time on their hillside? What will pass before gravity and erosion rolls them down the hill to the creek, where water will wear them away.

If you have hunted this land long enough, you may remember the fall day when you sat near the big white oak and killed a limit of squirrels with your .22. Or the summer day when you tried to catch tiny bream in the creek, on flies you had tied in a not so successful effort. But the bluegill still tried to eat it.

If you are old enough, you remember the days before whitetail deer here, and watched as the herd grew. The first deer you shot, with an old Marlin 30-30, was a small basket eight-point buck. You know now it was no trophy, but it still remains one of the most exciting days in your life.

That patch of privet was the hiding place for your biggest deer, a true trophy. You still don’t know how you made a killing shot, your arms were trembling from holding your gun on the spot where you knew the buck would expose itself as it moved out of the privet as it fed along the trail, eating acorns.

Your whole body was shaking from excitement, and you remember trying to order yourself to calm down. The movement of the buck ruins all those efforts, but you remember making yourself breath out, then in and squeeze, not pull, the trigger when the crosshairs lined up. And you almost jumped the 20 feet to the ground to go get a close-up look at him. He did not disappoint.

You may remember the days before 4 wheelers, too. Even though your property covers over 50 acres, you would never use one until you have a deer on the ground. But you hear their irritating whine and growl on nearby property at daylight as late hunters lazily ride to their stand, spooking the deer they would have seen if in the woods and quiet early enough.

Strangely enough, you hear their noise again an hour later, just when you expect to see deer moving back to bedding areas. At least they are scaring the deer they might have seen with a little patience. And they might spook them toward your stand.

Shots from other properties make you wonder if that trophy buck you have been patterning for weeks just went down. You hope that if he did, he was killed by a hunter that put out as much effort as you, and not by a deer shooter that made no effort other than to put out corn.

If you kill a deer, you take a minute at the kill to think about the deer and thank it for its sacrifice, so you will have meat. You have respect for your quarry and take pleasure in a trophy or just a meat doe, but you respect both for the wildness in it, and in you.

If you don’t make a kill you still rejoice in the total experience of being part of a tradition and way of life that is changing all too much.

Merry Christmas

Thanksgiving Traditions

Thanksgiving Day is all about tradition and giving thanks for what we have. In my family while I was growing up that tradition revolved around hunting and eating until I got the fishing bug bad. After college, for me it became a day to fish, and eat.

Before I went to college daddy had two pointers and we always hunted quail in the mornings while mama slaved in the kitchen, preparing delicious meals. We usually ate so much that daddy didn’t want to go back hunting that afternoon, but in my youth and energy I usually grabbed my .22 or .410 and went to the woods, looking for squirrels and rabbits.

After I got married and finished my undergraduate degree daddy had stopped hunting since quail had become so hard to find, and no longer had dogs. So I would go to our place at Clarks Hill and fish in the mornings, then get to town in time for a late lunch. That night I would head back to the lake by myself and fish the next three days before heading back to Griffin and work Monday morning.

One year mama decided to have our big Thanksgiving meal at the lake so I could fish more. She loved to fish as much as I did and understood my addiction.
When I got to the lake Wednesday afternoon after work mama was already preparing food for the next day. She told me several family members, my brother’s family and a couple of aunts and uncles, were coming to have dinner with us.

The next morning when I got up she warned me to be in for dinner. I told her I would even come in early enough to get cleaned up before eating. I caught a seven-pound bass on a Shadrap from a tree I had cut down into the water the year before.

After weighing it and releasing it, I looked at my watch. It was 12:01 and I thought how thankful I was that mama was having our big meal at dinner, not lunch. I went in about 4:00 to get cleaned up and could tell something was wrong. Mama, daddy and Linda were mad. All the family had been there for lunch, not dinner as I understood. They had all gone home by the time I came in.

The only thing colder than the looks from mama and Linda that afternoon and night was the cold turkey sandwich I had for Thanksgiving dinner. But they got over it soon and I had something more to be thankful for that year, they didn’t stay mad.

I am very tankful for the way I was raised by two loving, strong parents that were strict but forgiving. I wish everyone could have those memories and be raising their children that way.

If you have Thanksgiving memories and traditions, keep them going. If not, start them this year before its too late.

City or Country Life?

There are millions of people who love city life. Their natural environment is concrete, glass and steel, crowds of people and the mad rush of traffic. I will never understand them any more than they will understand my love of the solitude of being in the woods, fields and on waters.

In the early 1980s I was accepted at several colleges to start work on my first master’s degree. Georgia State was the shortest drive, in distance anyway, so I first went there to register for classes. After three hours of trying to find a place to park and wandering underground from office to office without seeing the sun, I left and headed to West Georgia College.

I parked right in front of the Administration building and walked across shaded sidewalks with grass on both sides to the admissions office. Within an hour I was registered for my first summer quarter classes. The drive home was about 20 miles longer than to Georgia State but took less time due to traffic. It was a much better fit for me.

I have always loved being outside. By the time I was eight years old I knew every foot of our 15-acre farm. But I was not allowed to cross a fence to adjoining properties. When I was eight, I decided to cross the back fence, feeling old enough to explore new worlds.

When I got down to Dearing Branch, the one that flowed under the nearby fence and then through our property too, I found a wonderland. I had the same feelings as Bilbo Baggins when he first went to Rivendell. The branch flowed through a gently sloping valley. There were a few big boulders on a hill on the other side of the branch. Water gurgled in the branch with a sound I like.

Most wonderous was a huge whiteoak tree on the slope. I managed to cross the branch without getting wet and walked to one of those boulders and sat down. The feeling of freedom and awe mixed to make it one of my favorite memories. And I did not get into trouble when I got back home and told my parents.

I still get that sense of freedom and awe when in the woods, and sometimes on the lake if the weather keeps other folks off the water. Heavy fog this time of year is a good time to be alone even on the most crowded lake.

In a December club tournament several years ago, Jackson Lake was extremely foggy. Visibility was about 50 feet. I was back in a cove and enjoying the quiet and solitude the fog emphasized. Then I smelled wood smoke. I love that smell on a cold day on the lake. It almost warms you up.

Although I love the quiet, a haunting jazz song playing at a cabin fit the mood just right. I almost forgot about fishing for a short time. That song, the fog and the wood smoke combined to make me feel that same freedom and wonder I felt as a child.

One sign that shows the difference between city folks and country folks. City folks admire nature but want it controlled. You can see window boxes with flowers and plants in most cities, and well-groomed parks attract many people on nice days.

Have you ever seen a window box in the country with little skyscrapers in it? Are there any parks in the country with small buildings and traffic, to remind us of what being in the city is like? I don’t think so.

The bad thing about city folks wanting to get “back to nature” is they move to the county and try to make it more like the city. Subdivisions of closely packed houses are popular, but they destroy the natural environment.

From 1981 to 1994 I was director of transportation for Pike County Schools, and rode every passable road in Pike County monthly, checking bus routes. The changes were scary

When first started learning the county, there were some small farms, as well as a few big ones, but most of the county was undeveloped. The small farms were mostly people with good jobs in Atlanta. I said every piolet and airline worker wanted 40 acres with a horse. They bought up old farms and lived there, enjoying the natural environment without changing it much.

In the 1980 the school system developed a very good reputation and more and more parents wanted to move to Pike County so their kids could go to good schools. But they brought city life with them. Subdivisions that were natural in no way sprang up, with houses stacked together.

Some bought a few acres and built a house, but quickly started changing nature. They wanted paved roads and cleared most of their property, planting grass and flowers to replace what was there. I can’t blame them for wanting to “prettify” their place, nature is untamed and disorganized.

I have to admit I bought a house with about four acres in a subdivision but left the trees and wild except for a small vegetable garden plot. There were only four houses in the 100-acre subdivision but now there are about 17. When I first moved here, I could zero in my deer rifle in my back yard but don’t do that any longer. There are just too many houses in range.

Even with the development, I can’t see any other houses when the leaves are on the trees. And after they fall the view from my back deck is still natural. And I do shoot squirrels in my yard but use a shotgun and am very carful where my shot will fall.

Enjoy nature, but please don’t try to make it more like a city.

How Spotted Bass Ruin A Lake

Growing up in the 1950s and 60s, fishing was a warm weather sport. We fished from March through August and hunted September through February. I never knew bass would bite in the winter until I joined the Spalding County Sportsman Club in 1974 and fished an October tournament that year and a January tournament the next year.

If memory serves me right, we caught a lot of bass at Sinclair. But that was not really a surprise since the weather was still warm. But the January tournament was a big surprise. On a freezing day with sleet, my partner landed a six-pound bass at Jackson, one of six over six pounds weighed in that day.

I landed one small keeper largemouth on a chrome Hellbender, one of the few crankbaits we had back then. There were only largemouth in the lake.
The days of consistently catching quality largemouth at Jackson are long gone, as tournament results show. In the late 1980s sewage from Atlanta that used to flow into the lake down the South River, keeping it fertilized like a farm pond, was diverted.

Even worse, well-intentioned but clueless fishermen midnight stocked spotted bass in the lake. Now they dominate the bass population. Spots grow more slowly than largemouth, don’t get as big, and dominate the habitat since they are more aggressive.

Some examples of the changes over the years. I landed my first two eight pounders in January tournaments at Jackson in the 1970s, and the second one was third biggest fish that day. I landed my biggest bass ever, a 9.4 pounder, in a February tournament there.

In a March tournament I had fourth biggest fish with a 7.4 pounder. There was one just over eight pounds and a 9.1 pounder. But big fish was a 9.2 pounder. In a tournament with Larry Stubbs, I netted a 7.4 pounder for him then he netted a 7.5 pounder for me! There are many more examples like that.

I landed an 8.8 pounder in 2001 in a January tournament, but that is the last fish I can remember over six pounds, and there had been none I can remember for several years before it. If we didn’t have at least one six pounder back then it was a bad day.

Spots are fun to catch but totally change a lake. There is no size limit on them anywhere in the state except Lanier, and biologists encourage fishermen to keep a ten fish limit every time they can to eat.

I brought home as many as I could after our last tournament. The small ones are easy to filet and taste great. It is unusual to catch one over three pounds and removing as many as possible may help the lake a little.

November Club Tournament and More Good People

Last Saturday 14 members of the Potato Creek Bassmasters fished our November tournament at West Point. We brought 41 bass weighing 58 pounds to the scales. The top four all had limits, but three fishermen didn’t have a keeper.

Doug Acree won with a good catch of 13.02 pounds and had big fish with a 5.43 pound largemouth. Frank Anderson was second with 9.17 pounds, Mike Cox placed third with 8.40 pounds and Buddy Laster came in fourth with 7.84 pounds.

With all the rain upstream last week I knew the lake would be very different from the one I won on the weekend before. And I was right. The lake had stained up and water was being pulled hard to keep the lake level down. I have had good catches there on rocky points with current rushing past, and I just knew that would work this time.

AS we took off at 7:00 AM, fog was starting to form on the lake. Another tournament took off just ahead of us at Pyne Park but I was able to go to my first two places but did not get a bite. I noticed the river upstream of the railroad bridge had thick fog. I went across the very foggy water very carefully to my third stop, watching for other boats and floating logs on the water. Wood was everywhere.

At 8:30 I heard a lot of boats running. A big tournament took off from Highland Marina, but it was so foggy in that area they were held until it was safe. At least 40 boats ran past me, headed down the lake. I knew they were going to clearer water.

I should have taken the hint but stubbornly kept fishing the heavily stained water. At 9:00 I landed a keeper spot on a crankbait from a rocky point with current so that gave me hope. But at 11:00, without another bite, I realized I had to go to better water.

Whitewater Creek was a decent color but after three hours fishing it without a bite, I made a major change, running way down the lake to a fairly clear creek. The last hour of the tournament I caught one keeper, missed two bites where the fish just made a fool of me, and, with five minutes left to fish hooked a keeper that came off as I lifted it over the side.

Some days are like that, nothing goes right. I was very weak and tired, so bad that if William Scott had not helped me put my boat in and take it out, I would not have been able to fish. That is my excuse and I am sticking with it!

Folks in the club are great like that, very helpful. They are more of the good people you never hear about.

Saying Goodby To President George HW Bush

SAYING GOODBYE To President George HW Bush
Today’s feature comes to us from The Outdoor Wire, our parent publication and her publisher/editor
Jim Shepherd from The Fishing Wire

President Bush


George H.W. Bush
Later this morning, the nation will say goodbye to former President of the United States George Herbert Walker Bush. With his death, we lose another member of what has been referred to as our “greatest generation” those World War II veterans who not only fought a global war, they came home and built what has arguably been one of the greatest nations in history.

With Mr. Bush’s passing, we also lose an advocate for the vigorous life of an outdoorsman. Bush, even in his later years, loved the outdoors, and many of the tributes paid to him over the past few days include recollections of trips with him to hunt or fish. Earlier this year, when fly fishing legend Bernard “Lefty” Kreh’s estate offered many of his mementoes at auction, one of the items included a handwritten note from Bush, thanking Kreh for a “great time fishing” with Mr. Bush. It also admonished Kreh not to “laugh at the picture of this amateur flyfisherman.”

The note and its admonition demonstrated two of Mr. Bush’s best qualities: valuing the worth of others, and a healthy ability to laugh at himself. After all, he used to recall that his mother had raised him not to have “big I” problems- to value others more than himself.

That servant’s nature was demonstrated by a life of service and focus on others, from being nation’s youngest naval aviator in World War II to penning a heartfelt note to an incoming President Bill Clinton who had defeated him – handily- in the elections. To Clinton, Mr. Bush wrote “I’m pulling for you” -and pledged his full support. It’s no surprise the two later became close friends. As Clinton explained, “He befriended me,” going on to say that he considered their friendship “one of the great joys of my life.”

Even as President, Bush worried about others. In fact, during a broadcast discussing the Bush legacy, my former colleague Bernard Shaw, recounted how Mr. Bush was concerned for his safety during Shaw’s life reporting from Iraq during Operation Desert Storm. After his return home, Bush invited Shaw to the White House, where Mr. Bush told him “Bernie, we were really worried about you.”

Bush’s handling of that war was widely criticized at the time. Today, his handling of that conflict and the collapse of the Soviet Union have led some historians to say he will likely be considered the nation’s finest one-term president.

Hs passing saddens many of us old enough to remember a younger, more vibrant Vice President Bush and his boss, Ronald Reagan. Being pretty new to the national news media at the time, I didn’t fully appreciate the unprecedented cooperation between political opponents.

Today, we lose one of those vital links to a scarce commodity between politicians: civil discourse and a desire to achieve the greater good.

As an industry, we should mourn the passage of our forty-first president because he, like the rest of his generation, realized the connections between man and nature. He was an outdoorsman and understood the circle of life.

Mr. Bush lived through adversity, from World War II to the tragic loss of a child, but accepted it all without bitterness as a part of the process of living life to one’s potential. He kept going without losing his belief in man’s ability – and responsibility – to do good.

On Monday, during a rare display of unity as political leaders came together to pay their respects to Mr. Bush, crowds gathered outside the capital rotunda where his casket will lie in state until this morning’s services. There, a 62-year old man who described himself as a lifelong Democrat explained standing outside in the cold as a way to pay his respects to a man “who gave his life in the service to the country,who did a lot of good things, but was a humble, caring person.”

A lady from Vermont said she was there because Mr. Bush represented an era where people “did the right thing and you care about America and that comes first.”

“I think maybe people need to start thinking about that a bit more,” she told CNN, “following that set of values, not fighting with each other, agreeing to disagree, doing what we’re supposed to do, take care of each other…not be at odds with each other all the time.

“Our country needs to come together,” she said, Regardless of what your political views are, I think everybody at heart wants to our country do well.”

This morning, as the nation prepares its final goodbyes to George H.W. Bush, I believe her outlook would have Mr. Bush’s wholehearted support.

— Jim Shepherd

There Are Good People Out There

Last year Jack Ridgeway introduced me to Randy and Wyatt Robinson. Wyatt was a student at Crosspoint Christian Academy and on the fishing team there. I tried to help them get ready for a high school tournament at Allatoona.

I’m not sure how much I helped, but the last two years they have helped me a lot! I have met some great folks through fishing and they are two of the best. Sometimes I feel like our society has destroyed good people. If you watch much news, it surely seems that way.

But there are many good folks out there, more than you realize from all the publicity the bad ones get. Randy is dedicated to working with Wyatt, doing everything a good parent does to help his dreams. As his boat captain, Randy spends many hours in a boat, driving the boat but the rest of the time just watching them fish.

He also provides a great environment for a youngster growing up. Wyatt hunts and recently killed a nice buck. I’m not sure he realizes how lucky he is to grow up in a home like that, much like I did not realize how lucky I was as a kid until I moved away from home. I just wish every kid could be as lucky!

Cost of Common Sense Climate Change Hysteria

I always get a kick out of the claims of a true believer in whatever the current name for weather. They call me a “skeptic” or “heretic”, reinforcing my use of the term “true believer.” So far, they don’t demand I be burned at the stake, maybe that would produce too much carbon!

Both sides have scientific information on their side but ignore or make wild claims about the science they think supports the other side. But only one side, the true believers, claim the science is settled.

Science is never “settled,” new information changes it. After all, in the early 1400s settled science said the earth was flat, and in the 1970s it said we were due for another ice age by the year 2000 if we did not make drastic changes to our lifestyles. Sound familiar?

In 1975 while working on my first Masters

Degree I had to write a research paper on global cooling. The “settled” science then said our lifestyles had to change and we had to spend billions of other peoples’ money to avoid a new ice age, with glaciers covering half of the US by the year 2000. When that “settled” science didn’t work out too well for them they changed the name so it would fit any weather we had.

Closer to home for me right now, cancer research for the past 100 years has settled the question of why our bodies immune system does not fight off cancer. Science was “settled,” except for a few skeptics, that our immune system thought cancer was a normal body cell so did not attack it and nothi9ng could be done about that “fact.”

A few weeks ago, two research scientists, call them skeptics, won the Nobel Prize in medicine for their breakthrough research that found an enzyme in cancer cells fools our immune system into thinking the cancer is normal cells. They have been able to deactivate this enzyme in mice and the tumors were killed, offering new hope for a new cancer treatment that goes against 100 years of settled science.

My biggest problem with true believers is their claim that “common sense” demands the government spend billions of our tax money and we make drastic changes to our economy and lifestyles. The problem with using the term “common sense” tries to imply those that disagree are totally wrong, and any cost is worth it.

The U.N.’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change said that efforts to stabilize levels of greenhouse-gas emissions would require investments of about $13 trillion in the next 12 years. It also noted that reducing emissions would reduce the rate of economic growth, costing much more in the long term. Just the cost of switching from carbon fuels to alternative energy sources would cost 44 trillion between now and 2050.

That report does not mention the problem of reliability of alternative energy, the more dangerous smaller vehicles, and lack of and inability to accomplish some goals. For some, a tiny tin can car may be fine, but if you hunt or fish, especially if you pull a boat or trailer, they do not work.

Some will say we have to make sacrifices, but they almost always want others to make those sacrifices. Every time I see celebrities and politicians with private yachts and jets say I need to cut back on my carbon use I can only shake my head. One cross Atlantic trip for them to attend a climate conference in their jet uses more carbon that I will in a lifetime of fishing and hunting using my truck and boat.

Just like they want to spend my money, they want us common folks to change our lifestyles while they live in luxury, changing nothing. And they demand we make those changes immediately, before their “settled science” changes.

Another “settled science” claim is low lying islands will be uninhabitable due to melting glaciers causing sea level rises. They say sea levels have risen about 8 inches in the past 150 years and are predicted to rise another sixteen to 48 inches in the next 100 years. But almost every example of this I could find says the islands are getting smaller due to sea level rise AND erosion.

A 2017 study by Duval and other looked at 111 islands “threatened” by sea level and erosion changes. Their study covered the past 50 years and found only nine that had actually gotten smaller. Fifteen had gotten bigger, with the vast majority not changing.

All this claim of change is based on computer models of our climate. But those models are only as good as the programmer writes them, and they depend on data input that can be manipulated. If you have a computer, you know how unreliable they can be. Auto spell correct is a computer model on your phone. How accurate is it?

I took a cruise up Glacier Bay National Park a few years ago. The naturalist told us the open water in the bay was 110 miles long. In 1764 when it was discovered it was covered by glaciers. They had retreated 110 miles in just over 250 years. And the fastest retreat took place from 1860 to 1870. I guess it was all those Civil War SUVs! There are 1045 glaciers in the bay and some of them are growing, not retreating. Why? They are not affected by climate change?

If our settled science is correct, our environment has always changed and probably always will. I have seen a lot of different weather in my 60 plus years outdoors, but climate changes very slowly, not fast enough for a person to see.

I have faith in human nature enough to know we adapt to climate change and thrive no matter what happens. And I see no sense in doing all the drastic, expensive changes to our lives because some computer models and true believers say its “common sense.”

Raking Leaves and Eating Pecans

I have noticed a few leaves starting to fall around my house. And while in town Monday one tree with pretty yellow leaves was showering them down every time a little breeze hit it. Its about leaf raking time!

I miss folks using rakes rather than leaf blowers. Their whine around the house is bad enough but that sound on lakes in the fall is almost as irritating as the whine of skidoos. Its hard to fish in peace.
But they surely are convenient and easier to use than a rake.

We had a huge pecan tree in our front yard where I grew up on Iron Hill Road in Dearing. There was another big one in the side yard and two smaller ones on that side near the road. Another big one was just past mom’s flower garden on the same side.

Those trees provided hundreds of pounds of pecans each fall, but also produced what seemed like a million bushels of leaves. I hated the boring, tedious job of raking leaves, made even slower by having to stop every pass and pick up pecans. But I did enjoy cracking a few open and eating them to break the long hours.

We would start at the house and rake everything to the ditch out front, where we burned them. I worried that my “pet” red ants in the bed in the ditch, where I had fed them flies all summer, would be killed but they always started scurrying around as soon as the ashes cooled.

I spent a lot of time in that ditch. There were always a few pecans we missed, and they were nicely toasted in the leaf fire. I would scratch around in the ashes, finding enough to keep me happily full. Mom was not quite as happy with the conditions of me and my clothes!

For some reason I never even thought of jumping in piles of leaves. I see many cartoons of kids and dogs having fun in leaves, but we were working. And I would never consider scattering them and having to rake them up again.

After cleaning the yard dad would take a long pole and knock remaining pecans to the ground. Sometimes I would climb the trees as high as possible and shake the smaller limbs to do the same thing.

We had three kinds of pecans, but I never knew the names. One tree had what we called “papershell” pecans, big nuts with very thin shells. But we did not get to eat them, they brought the highest price, so we sold them.

Another tree, the one past mom’s flower garden, had “peewees,” very small nuts. They were not worth much but we sold them, too, since they were such a pain to crack and open for little meat.

The other three trees were just regular pecans and we ate many of them. There were always bags of them in the den, where we sat at night watching TV and cracking them and picking out the meat. Some went into our mouths, but most went into the freezer for toppings for mom’s cakes and pies. We often roasted a pan while cracking them and also later when they went from the freezer to the oven.

I miss eating those nuts but not the raking leaves!Raknig

Fantastic Fall

I love this time of year. Shorter days and cool mornings hint at a big change, and everything responds to it. Plants start turning dull green and brown, dying back, storing food in roots for the winter. Game animals are more active, seeking food to help them survive the lean days to come. Bucks leave hints they are getting ready to rut.

But best of all to me, bass move out of their deep summer lairs and look for food, much like wildlife. They are easier to catch for both reasons. And it is much more comfortable to be on the water looking for them. Most pleasure boaters are staying home and many part time fishermen leave the water for fields, woods and football fields.

Topwater can be fantastic in the fall. To me, there is no more fun way to catch fish than seeing them hit on top. But I like catching them on spinnerbaits and crankbaits, both of which work well in cooler water. And for big fish a jig and pig is hard to beat. That bait imitates both bluegill and crawfish, both favorite foods of big bass.

That time is not quite here yet. In a few more weeks a jacket will feel good running down the lake first thing in the morning. Days will still be hot, with clear skies and bright sun. The bright sun positions bass in shade, another thing that makes them a little easier to catch.

The three Griffin bass clubs will make our annual trip to Lake Martin in three weeks for our three-club, two-day tournament. That is my favorite trip of the year. We usually catch a lot of bass and have a lot of fun.

All too soon fun fall weather will deteriorate into the cold, dead winter. Enjoy it while it lasts!