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Had a friend put the temptation on me to play hooky from Church. Checked the tides and didn't leave Valdosta until 7AM. Hit the flats about 9AM. Fishing the rising tide we fished spotted bottom and would drift through some nice trout. When wind died and tide slowed, bite became mostly shorts. I tried to commit to fishing a cajun thunder. Lord how I hate to fish corks. My LOUD MOUTHED friend showed no mercy as he was well up on me with the trout. At the lull in the tide ran to the creeks and fished the grass lines. My LOUD MOUTHED friend put a keeper and a short in the boat. I told my LOUD MOUTHED former friend to run us back to the grass flats as the winds were freshening. I cast down the devil cork and pulled out my bait caster and began to flail the waters in earnest. To the consternation of my LOUD MOUTHED former friend, the trout could not resist a well presented grub and a quick comeback was had. As I boated my 4th keeper, some mention was made that we might be up to our limit. I explained to my LOUD MOUTH former friend that limits were personal and not boat limits and that should he get caught over the limit, he could tell it to the judge. I told him that normally I didn't squeal on fishing buddies, but in his case, I would sing like a canary. He commenced to hem and haw and tell me that these were not the rules in his boat, to which I explained that these were not boat rules at all, but rather State statutes that even superseded exceedingly LOUD MOUTHED captains rules on their boats. I told him I was looking for one more large trout to fill my limit and that it would be kept. He began trying mouth to mouth resuscitation to one of his most recent keepers with little success when my large trout hungrily took my grub sans devil cork and begin to vigorously shake his head in his trip to the boat. My now QUIET boat companion was obviously quietly praying that this fish would escape and my rod and reel would freeze. His prayers went unanswered as my large trout was netted and welcomed to the boat.

The moral to this story is when you fish with a Yankee, even one that has lived amongst gentler southern folk for many years, a large pair of socks in the tackle box is a must to stuff in their pie hole.

Upon arrival back in Valdosta, he wished to know when we might do this again. I told him to check with the devil....this caused a funny look to cross his ugly mug, so I explained to him...when hell freezes over, call me immediately

Great report and catch.

MudDucker wrote:I explained to him...when hell freezes over, call me immediately

Glad I went to church. Nice catch though.

Trout fisher, I started to give you a call, but truth be told, I was conflicted about going. I planned on backing out, but when I called, the other fellow (the smart one) had already backed out.

I was there in spirit. I could not have made it. Sunday's are Daddy/daughter days. Whatever they wanna do, within reason, we go and do it! (After church that is.)

Good deal, thats the best excuse you could have given me

WTG, MD.

Funny story. I've read it several times already. Sounds like yall had a good day.