Oxford Stroud Recollects Fishing with Electricity - Anglers Journal - A Fishing Life

I’ve caught fish everwhichaway they can be.

On the Chattahoochee River I’ve used nets, gigs,

trot lines, and bare hands. Even electricity.

One day Braleigh and me caught so many

that two-ended punt boat nearly went under.

We were boys and didn’t know any better.

Catfish were plentiful as water for all

we could figure. That was back then.

We’d wrap the copper pipe and drop it in,

then use the telephone battery to make a wet cell

of that whole muddy dogleg of the river.

The small channel cats would rise, then

recover, but big whites and blues would float,

belly up, and we’d haul ’em in, fill the boat

to the oarlocks with fresh fish to eat or sell.

Their backs shined so bright it was a wonder.

But let me tell you this: it was also a danger.

If you caught the coil wrong or touched iron

binding on that old craft with a live wire,

it was enough to knock you on your ass.

A man could get killed just trying to catch fish.

Of course, such a method was a sin against Jesus

and man, fish and fresh water, but we didn’t savvy.

We were just free as gnats for the summer,

a little enterprising and a little hungry.

Besides, we hadn’t heard of sport or mercy.

That was a cooter’s age ago. That was then.




Fish Heads

We approached the charter boat just as the customers were saying their goodbyes to the captain and mate and dragging their coolers to their trucks. It was about 2 p.m. in the afternoon, and the temperature was in the low 90s.

Dawn Root

Fish Cutter

Dawn Root is part of a small and vanishing tribe of fisherfolk who know how to bone shad...


Fishing Buddies

Finding the right fishing partner is a bit like courting a potential spouse. Hold on to the keepers; they're few and far between

As two of his brothers watch, Mick Chivers lifts a bass caught the night before from the ice to a cleaning table.

Fishing For The Table

The evening began like a fishing daydream. The sun was dropping. The flooding tide and a cool wind were roughly aligned.


Let’s Fish

I spent three weeks last winter living with the Salas family at their home and Los Torreones Lodge, which is on the Simpson River, about halfway between the towns of Coyhaique and Aysen.