They weren’t gone very long, and after cleaning the fish and the boat the boat I did what I usually do. Go to the bow of the boat; sit in one of the chairs with a glass of rum and a big cigar. It doesn’t get any better than this. The gulls were still at my dock yelling for more fish guts. There was just enough breezes to keep the no seeums away. Then I remembered. I didn’t check the live bait. There was one left. What should I do?
Turn him loose? I don’t think so. They’re still sort of rare for this time of year. Put him in the fish cage? Well, then I’d have to get up, set my cigar down and let the ice in my rum melt. No, that wasn’t an option.
I still had a stiff rod with a circle hook on the boat. I grabbed a Cajun Thunder from under one of the seats and simply hooked it on the snap swivel. I felt sorry for the pin fish because I was enjoying the cigar and rum and he was about to be impaled on a piece of steel that weighed as much as he did. A short cast and splash he was there for the taking by whatever passed him buy.
Maybe an hour passed by, and several rums and another cigar. The radio was on and it was beginning to approach dusk. To my back the sky was turning pink and yellow and I thought for a fleeting minute I’d untie the lines and head out into the bay to watch the sunset. Then it happened.
The rod was in a rod holder and the line was in a trolling clip. The clip fell to the side of the boat and the Cajun Thunder began to race down the canal.
I wanted to grab the rod, but I first had to find a secure place for my cigar and my glass of rum. I set the glass on the deck and the cigar between my teeth. The drag was screaming. I got the rod in my hands and was surprised at the weight of the fish on the other end. A sail cat? A gar? Maybe a ray.
This fish just didn’t want to come back to the boat. But, after several minutes of playing tug of war with me he gave in. When I got him close, but not close enough to see what kind of fish he was I put the net in the water so he would come to the net instead of scaring the hell out of him as he looked up at me.
Then I saw him. A Red Fish, with broad shoulders and wide hips. And he swam to the net like a good fish should.
We’re having friends over Friday night for Red Fish, stuffed with crab meat and Creole Gumbo as only us South Louisiana folks can make.
But this leaves me with one big unanswered question considering I drove the boat all day, over half the Big Bend looking for reds and trout and whatever else would bite so my fishing party would go home happy.
So on this unusually productive day I ask myself, “Should I sell the boat and just fish off the dock”?
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How long do you stay gone from the dock? 
