“What ya after?” asked the crusty old bank angler after I launched my boat. ?I pointed out toward the center of the lake where, in the glassy calm of the morning, it was easy to see a quarter-acre sized school of striped bass crashing the surface.?? His face looked like a tattered piece of leather that had been chewed on at great length by a hound dog, but it brightened considerably upon receipt of my answer. He flashed me a grin only an orthodontist could love and then snickered.?? “Son, you can’t catch them striper bass… everybody’s been trying but they won’t hit cuz they’re spawnin’.”
Well, I knew that he was way off base because it was mid-October and stripers are spring spawners, but I didn’t let on. I told him I was going to give it a try anyway just for kicks. He nodded and wished me good luck – said I was going to need it.
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