As teenage boys in the rural south of the 1960's, our pastimes were sports, hunting, fishing, and of course girls! A few of us had an old worn out car or truck, but most had no girlfriend, or if we did, it meant only one date a week...maybe twice if she'd let you come sit with her on Sunday afternoon between church services. Shoot, we couldn't afford more than that anyway..movies were $1.50 a head, burgers for both would nearly be a 5-spot, and if you used the family car, you were expected to replace all the 25 cent per gallon gas that was used, so, there was always some of my friends ready to go with me to set out hooks.
Spring break was a prime time for "settin" the hooks. We had a whole week to fish. I would "make up" 25-30 lines. I'd take a spool of strong nylon twine and cut pieces about 6 feet long. I'd tie a granny knot on one end and then a slip knot on the same end forming a loop. On the other end I'd tie a large hook and then crimp a large piece of lead about 4 inches above the hook.
Once the lines were ready, it was time to gather some bait. A catfish is a bottom feeder and will eat most anything. Preferably the bait needed to be sturdy enough to withstand the constant pecking from the panfish in the creek. Earthworms and catalpa worms are better used after dark because of this and you can bet the hook will be clean the next morning. My favorite baits were crawfish and " puppy dawgs". "Puppy dawgs" are spotted salamanders indigenous to our area. They are found in the woods under old rotting logs and large tree limbs. It took some effort to find enough of them to bait the hooks for several nights, but it was fun finding them and well worth the effort.
Now with hooks and bait, I'd head over to the creek. Poles could usually be cut along the creek banks unless the hooks were to be set down one of the many cow pastures that existed in those days. Small hardwood saplings were good because they were sturdy and you could usually leave a small fork on the top end which made fastening the line easier. Cane poles were also good, but, required a little more care to fasten the lines so that they wouldn't slip off the end.
To set the pole I would try to select a spot on the bank that would be easy to reach in the dark, then I would stick the butt end of the pole in the bank, pushing down on the pole so that when the ground raised it back a little, the hook would be suspended slightly off the bottom. Depth of the creek didn't matter. If the hole took all the line, so be it, or if the creek was shallow in a spot, just wrap the line around the end of the pole till it reached the desired depth.
Along about dark, we'd all gather up and head to the creek. Most brought a light, a quilt or sleeping bag to sit on, and something to eat and drink. The first thing to do was clean off a spot and build a small fire. Wieners or smoked sausage links roasted over an open fire were some of the best tasting things in the world! Sometimes we'd make a stew, sometimes we'd just snack on cookies or cakes, whatever we could round up to bring. It was all good and we all shared what we had. We joked about each other's performance in the last ballgame, our parents and friends, and our lives in general. We carried on serious conversations about the Vietnam war and especially the draft. We talked of our dreams and ambitions, all the while making jokes and wisecracks. You learn a lot about your friends sitting around a camp fire where nothing inhibits your thoughts and words. Secrets were unveiled and lifelong friendships were formed.
After we ate, when it had become good dark, we'd run the lines. Generally on the first night we'd catch a lot oh mud cat and eel. They are good eating but the prize catch was channel cat, the big boys of the creek. You could tell by the way the pole acted whether you had a good fish or a small one. If the pole was bouncing or just slapping the water...mud cat or eel. If the pole was being pulled under or pulled down and hung up, you knew you had a good fish...channel cat or maybe a blue, flat head, or spotted cat. We'd take turns at each hook, giving everyone a chance to catch something. We'd run the lines four or five times between dark and about midnight, then we'd gather up our stuff, take care to kill the fire, and then walk out, usually with a good mess of fish. Sometimes we caught nothing at all! It didn't matter, we were young and strong, full of hope and ambition, and on the verge of being completely on our own.
If you can read between the lines, setting the hooks was a viable reason for us to get out from under our parents for a while. Jimmy, Bobby, Festus, Lip, Chub, Joe, Chunk, Wesley, Bob and Rocky (brothers), and Moose are some of the guys whose company I enjoyed on these fishing trips. Some were drafted and went to Vietnam. Joe gave his life there. Others chose the military as a career, some made accountants, some farmers, some business men, and a couple made school teachers. Those of us who are left are older now. We don't see each other as often, but, we'll always remember the good times we had "settin" out those hooks!
