My first topwater bait ruined me

When I was a young boy and just learning the intricacies of bass fishing, my uncle took me to his “honey-hole,” to wet a line. My dad had told him that while I loved to fish I was not particularly good at it yet. Like most dads, he wanted me to be successful at the things I enjoyed.

My uncle volunteered to take me fishing the next day to a three-acre hidden pond on his farm that “held more bass than the mosquitos that swarmed it.” I couldn’t even sleep that night.  The next morning, I was waiting in the kitchen for my uncle to come in and fill his thermos with coffee, make a couple of bacon sandwiches, put a bottle of Coke in his lunch pail and get going.  I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

After a short drive through several pasture gates, he stopped the truck and I jumped out and slammed the door with excitement. “Easy does it buddy,” he said. “Those big fish can hear a door slammed 100 yards away.” I was sixteen before I learned that wasn’t exactly true. 

He dropped the tailgate, pulled out our rods and reels, grabbed his tackle box and handed me the lunch pail.  Off we went through a finger of woods to the most amazing pond I ever saw.

Lilly Pads for Miles…

The water was perfectly still. The pond had trees growing right to the edge of it. It was a clear, aqua-blue hole in the earth that was spring-fed. I was most focused on the vast covering of lily pads that stretched almost the width of the pond. My enthusiasm wavered as all I could think of was how many times I was going to get snagged on those “weeds,” everywhere.

My uncle recognized the fear in my eyes of losing every lure I had on me in those pads and then asked me, “you have any topwater baits with you?”  I shook my head and asked, “what’s a topwater?” He just smiled and pulled a topwater mouse out of his tackle box and tied it on. 

“Cast it in one of those little openings in the pads under a tree limb,” he said. “The Bass will think a mouse slipped and fell in. Then do a slow steady retrieve back right over those Lilly Pads.”  

I thought that lure was too large and to odd looking for a fish to go after, but did as I was told.  I casted fairly close to a three-foot opening in the pads, closed my bail and literally got one crank on the reel before the water exploded like a WWII mine bumped by a submarine. The lure went two feet into the air from a missed strike. The ferocity of the hit startled me. By the time I set the hook in the air, the lure landed right in front of me.  My uncle let out a hearty laugh and said, “welcome to topwater fishing buddy.”

Topwater Airbursts…

Over the next four hours I must have had 30, or more, fish blow those topwater lures out of the water. I landed about a third of them. While most of them were in the three pound range, my uncle said a few of them were over seven. That little meadow mouse had to have a piece of cord tacked to it after an hour because the tail had been ripped off. One eye and one ear were gone as well by the time we broke for lunch. My right bicep was sore, and my nerves were shot. My uncle had to remind me you can’t grin and drink out of a bottle at the same time.

While eating my bacon sandwich and drinking my Coke, my uncle was re-bending some of the hooks on the mouse lure. 

My first cast after lunch, a lunker broke the line and the miracle, mouse was gone. I was devastated and thought the day was through. Then my uncle said, “…try this popper.”  I asked if it was a topwater and when he nodded yes, I said, “…tie that thing on and let’s see if they like it.”

Whether it is the exaggeration of good memories that takes place over the years or if it was literally the most fish I have ever had hit topwater baits in my life, I can’t really say.  All I know is my first experience with a topwater lure ruined freshwater baits for me.  To this day, my first passes over a pond or lake are topwater frogs, turtles, or buzzbombs.

I almost don’t care if they hit it. I figure I have had enough strikes from that one day many years ago to last a lifetime.