The weekend before last my father and I woke up around 3:30 and headed out to Justin Hurst WMA. Formerly known as Peach Point, the place was justly renamed in honor of the game warden, Justin Hurst, who was recently gunned downed by poachers while on duty. It's a shame that cowards would do such a thing, especially to such a good man.
Upon arriving to the WMA, we found ourselves car #30 in line...not a good sign as we were left with the poorest choices of spots for the morning hunt. None the less, we walked our way through the muck to our designated hunting area and set up our decoys. As the light began to announce it's arrival, dragonflies took to flight to start a hunt of their own: Mosquitoes on the menu. Mosquitoes were light that morning, which is quite unusual in my experience, especially after all the rain we've had. During most hunts, you're lucky if they don't carry you away.
Much of the morning, we found ourselves observing the birds either flying by just out of range, or working areas on the horizon. You could hear the thump of shotguns going off in areas all around. There was a great deal of excitement all around....except on our pond. Quiet. Many birds worked the channel about 100 yards out. I'm ashamed to say we did get a couple of Teal within range, but rusty on the draw, the birds flared and laughed at our attempts. Perhaps warming up with some skeet next pre-season would be wise.
With the sun now up and the morning flights behind us, we packed up and headed out. After a bite to eat, we headed to the check out station to announce our empty bag. An Aggie girl working on her PhD was swabbing bird assholes to check for avian bird flu, a study she is conducting. What a way to spend a morning, huh? Suddenly I was okay with my zero, thankful I didn't have an asshole to offer.
Time to try our luck on the coast. The old man and I headed off to cast our lines into the surf in pursuit of the Red Drum, aka Redfish that have come to shore to spawn. As we drove the shore looking for a spot, we saw truck after scattered truck of fishermen, none of which were reeling in anything of interest. Couple of small 18" sharks maybe. We finally chose a spot and pop busted out the net to catch some Mullet to use for bait.
Once we had bait, we cast out the lines out and put the poles in the side of the truck. Now we wait. Soon we pulled out a few sandwiches mom had made and watched the tide roll in. You can see the brown waters of the Brazos river merging into the Gulf from about a quarter mile away. Slowly those brown murky waters were getting closer. By the time they reached us, we would be packing up and heading out. In the meantime we would catch a small Redfish and one of the biggest Hardhead Catfish I've ever caught. Hardheads are worthless, so back it went, and the Redfish was under 20", so back it went as well. Empty handed we left the surf.
Tired and longing for the a shower and clean sheets, Pop and I headed for the comfort of home. Perhaps in the next few weeks, before November rolls around, we will be back at it. Maybe next time we'll come home with a Red.
A week passes and already I'm lookin' to fish. I had originally planned to hit Town Lake, but once I found out Patrick was heading to the ranch, I figured that the destination might as well be Lake Somerville. I'm not familiar with the lake and I've been wanting to do a little exploring. I would later come to find that I have a lot of searching to do before I find the hot spot for bass.
I woke up early on Sunday, around 3:30, and having packed the night before, was on the road in no time. I reached Ledbetter by 5:30, and after deciding on the Nails Creek Sector, was back on the road with Patrick by 6:00. I've never been to the Nails Creek Sector, so it was all new to me. As we got closer, the fog got thicker. This we literally going to be a shot in the dark. As we pushed off in the canoe, the Q-beam proved useless. Only a thick glow of light appeared after 1 million foot candles bounced off every molecule in that foggy horizon. As the sun barely lit up the sky, we could make out the outline of grass beds and lily pads.
Patrick and I fished the edges of the labyrinth for I don't know how long. We tried all sorts of jigs and spoons. Went for bass, went for crappie. Just couldn't escape the fact that we were just in a bad spot. Finally Patrick threw out a line for catfish, and we got some activity from there. Eventually, we paddled around to see check things out. We stumbled across a man made tributary and followed it up stream along it's winding banks. Calm and quiet, it was rather relaxing. We tied up the canoe somewhere along the way and set down for lunch. During this time we came across some pretty neat things, from water moccasin to a herd of wild hogs.
By about 1:00 we were headed back to the boat ramp and on back home. Somehow the drive back to Austin was just about more than I could take. Tired from lack of sleep and the physical exertion of paddling the canoe combined with driving alone and coming home empty handed, all I wanted to do was get home and go to bed. Still, as exhausted as I was, and even though my cooler was empty, I'd do it all over again. To be outside in nature, hunting and fishing, we'll, it's just something that runs deep in a man's blood. You'd be crazy not to do it.
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