Carl Island is the
name of the island off Green Point. It was near Carl Island that my
second wife and I frequently fished for black bass and rock bass. A
spinner known as a #4 Mepps Bucktail was a favored lure for fishing
bass; we always purchased two of every lure we both liked.
One day we were having exceptional luck, but had to leave early because
the fish had bitten the bucktail off my spinner. All the local places
were sold out, so that night I cut some hair from the tail of my dog,
Holly. I took some regular red sewing thread, attached it where the
bucktail had been and placed some epoxy on it.
The next day my wife told me that since I had the lure that lost the
hair, I had to use the imitation. I did. Was she sorry! That day I caught
fish almost every cast. Hank Hayes, “fisherman extra ordinary”,
moved his boat to be near me. Shortly he was casting where I was. I
caught five to his one. I switched sides of the boat. I looked up and
there he was again. He asked what I was using. I told him a Mepps #4
Bucktail. He asked me if I was doing something different or if I had
placed fish oil on the Mepps. I told him no.
My wife was getting tired of me catching most of the fish and wanted
to return to camp. As soon as we returned, she asked me to take the
bucktail off her spinner and add some Holly Hair to it.
That night I had a visit from Hank, who finally got the secret from
me. If I agreed, he would have purchased every hair Holly had. I did
agree to provide him enough hair to do one spinner each year free. He
agreed not to tell where he got it.
Members of my family with little fishing experience became experts.
I still only took that which Holly's tail would reasonably provide.
She was a lady.
When my wife and I decided to go our separate ways, she asked me to
take Holly. The winter after I started work in Fulton, I needed an apartment.
I could find no one who would take dogs, so a friend offered to keep
Holly until I could find a place that would, or until I moved to the
Pond that spring.
Shortly thereafter, Holly ran away, I believe to find me. We searched
everywhere, placed ads, checked the Humane Society and I ran the roads
for weeks looking. We never found her. Every time I opened the door
that year at the Pond, I expected to see her. A couple of years later,
there were no Holly Hair spinners remaining.
Years later my dad had colon cancer and was told he had about six months
to live. I was the oldest of his children and we talked often about
what he would like to do. His first need was to get his affairs in order
and he wanted me to see that his wishes were adhered to. Next he wished
to finish his life as long as possible as if he was healthy. He then
held a little party for a few of us at Sandy Pond to tell us old stories,
why he had done certain things and little secrets he thought we should
know. That day he became more outgoing then he ever was before or after.
He also told me that after his services, he wanted the first of his
monies to be spent on a party for all those who attended those services
to celebrate the good things in his life.
Finally, he said he had something special for me, but that I would have
to promise to use it and place it on the mantle somewhere. You guessed
it – the last Holly Hair. It isn't on the mantle. What is left
of it is in a square, white marble urn.
Love's
True Test
In the early Spring
after the first warm rain, the Lake Ontario bull heads come into the
creeks to spawn. They are the best eating when they feed in colder water
and above the sand. River bullheads often have a muddy taste. The best
time to fish is between 8 and 11 p.m.
Years ago, I normally used two poles from the shore, each on forked
sticks pushed into the ground. Each pole had two hooks, each hook with
a juicy night-walker (worm). In approximately half-hour stints the fish
would bite so frequently that you could not keep both poles baited and
in the water. (I later learned to pre-bait detachable hook sets to enhance
my total catch, but still could not keep the poles baited and in the
water for those busy periods). I often caught around 40 one- to two-pound
fish in an evening. On some occassions I would go home, switch gear
and go to another creek from about 1 to 3 a.m. and blind dip for smelt
with a net. Fresh smelt were my favorite.
Not long after I met my present wife, I took her with me to fish for
bullhead. It was rainy and cool. For a half-hour we would cuddle together
under some dock boards. The next half-hour was devoted to keeping up
with the fish. Then cuddle again, then fish, then cuddle, then fish
. . . We had a great time.
The next morning I was cleaning fish. She came out and asked if I would
like fresh fish for lunch. I told her yes and gave her a couple. (For
those not familiar, a bullhead is like a small catfish. They have skin,
not scales. To clean, you remove the skin, the head, and all but the
meat and bone. They have one main bone with the body bones attached.
When you cook them, you do so with the bone in and just pull it away
with one movement when they are cooked.)
My wife is from Long Island and was unfamiliar with cooking fresh water
fish. She asked me how I liked bullheads prepared. I explained that
my sister used pancake flour and then pan-fried them, and her way was
my favorite.
A while later my wife announced that lunch was ready. I went to the
table expecting the tender white meat encased in a crisp coating of
oil-fried pancake flour and egg. What I saw was a large pancake with
the form of a bullhead in the middle. (She could not get the flour to
stick to the fish so she made a batter, which also didn't stick. The
pancake cooked, the fish did not. I still ate it, though I believe I
have not had fried bullhead since.)
It’s 33 years later and my wife still tells everyone that after
she saw me eat that fish she knew my love was real. (She has since became
a good cook.)
Bernie
Carr has his own website: www.sandypondny.com
