My friend Blake avoids fishing like a boy allergic to bees avoids a bee hive. He claims he has a curse. Every time since the age of 10, when he fishes, he gets skunked. On a beautiful summer day my friend Blair, Blake, I decided to go for small mouth on the Winnipeg River. There are a few honey holes we know of, and we were going to hammer them hard! Our goal was to land Blake a fish and break the curse. Twenty minutes into the fishing session, Blair laced in to an 18" smallie and my self into a 16 incher. Not a bad way to start the day. We went back and forth for the next hour slamming one after another. Blake, on the other hand was doing his usual....not catching fish. He was using the same Texas rigs we were, he just wasn't able to set the hook. Blake is very competitive, and hates to loose. He wasn't happy being the only one not catching, even though he should be used to it. After enough was had, Blake wanted to doctor up his own offering. He grabbed his tackle box, and turned his back to us as he fumbled around looking for lures. It took him a whole five minutes, and when he was done, he spun around to show us his presentation. Blair and I had a good laugh. Blake had put on a big dare devil, an inline spinner, a Rapala crank bait, and a pickerel rig, all onto one leader. We both wished him good luck, and he flung his monstrosity over the side of the boat. Shortly after, the bass took a break from Blair and I's lines. We had thought maybe Blake’s curse was wearing off on us. Meanwhile, under the boat another story began..... There was a ferocious hunter on the prowl. He had just came back from an exhausting swim after stalking prey all morning with no results, and had built up a quite a hunger doing so. A large bay was near by, usually loaded with tantalizing small mouth and other tasty species. If he could sneak up on an unsuspecting fish, he might be able to fill the void in his stomach. As he approached the bay he peeked through the cabbage weeds on the out skirts, to see the action that lay ahead. To his surprise, there was not a smorgasbord of fish. But wait. He saw an all too familiar glimmer up ahead. It looked to him like one of those human devices used to catch fish. He figured he should familiarize himself with the trickery this human was using and add it to his repertoire of avoidances. As he cautiously headed towards the glimmer he became puzzled. It looked like a typical red and white spoon, but attached to it, was a mess of other lures. Although this was a hungry northern, with nothing but eating on his mind, he was ambushed by thoughts of sympathy. There must be something wrong with a human to attempts to catch a fish with an arrangement like that. This does seem very weird, yet it's the only way to understand this bewildering event. As he circled the "bait" he felt an overwhelming urge to bite down. Meanwhile in the boat… Blake continued to jig is hooks. Up and down, and on the next up, his rod slammed down. Blake looked over at us, and said, "I think I have one?" He sure did, and after five minutes of this beast stripping line off Blake’s spool, and fighting the drag, he brought him boat side. We netted the pike, measured it, took a picture and released him back to his home, still empty bellied. It turned out to be Blake’s biggest fish ever, measuring just over 37 inches. Blair and I were so happy he finally got one, and now Blake’s comes fishing with us almost every time. It seems like Blake broke the curse! We will also never mock what he ties on again!
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