Tragic Fishing Moments 



scribe the thrills of that combat. Suffice to say that 

 after possibly ten minutes that seemed a whole day, 

 I had him where he began to swim near the surface in 

 wide circles around the canoe, which by this time had 

 drifted some distance downstream. Nearer and 

 nearer the canoe the circles were made and slower and 

 slower they became. What a fish he was over two 

 feet of dark green and lighter yellow as he lay on 

 his side near the boat. At the time he looked to me 

 all of eight pounds. Now as I mentally compare him 

 with my six-pound small-mouth I have since caught, 

 I know he was about six and a half, possibly a little 

 heavier. 



At any rate, I slid my long handled landing net 

 deep in the water and this brought a dying flurry 

 from the big fellow. Slowly I drew him in; nearer 

 and nearer he came to the net. I had him almost 

 over the net; I had him over the net and was about 

 to net him when the snell parted at the hook, right 

 at the end of the silk wrapping, and " my " bass 

 half-floated, half -wiggled downstream. That mo- 

 ment has never been equalled in twenty years of all 

 kinds of fishing experience as my most tragic fishing 

 moment. 



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