From Hunting to Fishing

One good deed deserves another. I’ve had reason to think about this phrase a lot lately. Last Thursday, I was selected to hunt the Brookville Lake Waterfowl Resting Area (WRA). 

This hunt is on a first-come, first-served basis. You must drive to the White Water Memorial State Park, choose a hunting area, and get a parking pass. The hunting days are Thursdays and Fridays during the season. I’m pretty sure all the slots are taken.

I was privy to this opportunity because I sometimes hunt with Larry Lawson near Liberty. I chose the area adjacent to the state park, where there was a deer reduction hunt last Monday and Tuesday. 

I reasoned that hunters in the park and on private land would push the deer into this area. I didn’t know how rough the terrain was for an 80-year-old hunter.

The bottom was a tangle of briars, vines, and cedars. The hillsides were steep, with many laydowns and a deep gorge one would have to drag a deer across. 

I jumped five deer, so the area had promise. 

Back at the state park, I explained to Brittany at the office that the area was too demanding. “I have an opening in Area #4. Why don’t I give you a pass to look it over? It is all flat land with corn plantings,” she said.

I picked up Larry Lawson, who was hunting a local farm. We headed for Treaty Line Road. 

This was supposed to be an archery hunt, but we left our bows in the truck. With threatening skies, this was going to be a short scout. Sure enough, 20 minutes into our foray, it began to rain.

Back at the park office, I told Brittany I wanted to hunt this area the Thursday and Friday after the firearms opener. She said, “I’m sorry, a man just took the last opening in this area.”

“I know the man who signed up; let me give him a call,” she said. The mighty fine fellow gave up his registration for a stranger he had never met and chose another area.

Earlier, another fellow hunter at the office said, “Take my phone number, and I’ll help get your deer out.

Three folks I don’t know went out of their way to help me. Would I show such an act of kindness?

Larry and I returned to the farm he was hunting. “We had better get back to the woods early and get set up,” he suggested. I lobbied for making a few cast in the pond first for big black crappies. I had two poles, and Larry agreed.

I gave Larry one of my favorite spinning outfits, sporting a 1/32nd-ounce hair jig. I was using a similar outfit with a 1/16th-ounce Muey jig.

We began catching 12-13.5 inch crappie on frequent casts. “I’ve never caught fish like this,” my friend said. By sundown, we had caught over 60 crappies, 15 bluegill, and a few bass.

Back at the truck, Larry pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. He said, “I know we caught all these fish because of your setups. I want this pole.”

I handed his money back. I enjoyed this rod, reel, and line setup. The rod handle was stained from years of use. “I’ll go with you to buy a new one,” I said. Then, I thought about Brittany and the two hunters doing me such good deeds.

I returned the spinning outfit to Larry and said, “It’s yours.” As much as that pole meant to me, he treasured it more. I invited him to get some jigs and grubs out of my box.

I drove home that evening. Larry stayed.

The next day, he called and said, “Guess what I’m doing?”