Fishing foursome

PONCA — If two is company and three is a crowd, what is four?

If you’re fishing, it can be a lot of fun.

Last Saturday, Alan Thomas of Russellville, Rusty Pruitt of Bryant and Ken Polk of Dallas and I teamed up on a wade fishing trip on the Buffalo River at Steel Creek. Al and I had planned a similar excursion the previous week, but I had to cancel due to a last minute conflict. Al went alone and caught a couple of 16-inch smallmouth bass, one 15-incher and a couple of 14s. There was no flow in that part of the Buffalo, and it was reduced to a series of landlocked pools where fish were basically trapped.

Since it has been so dry for so long, new food has not entered the river. Fish have pretty much exhausted the food supply, so they were very hungry and very aggressive.

Drought has affected more than fish in the Ozarks. It looks like early fall in that part of the country. The forests have the sere, crinkled look of autumn. Much of the foliage is brown, and many trees are turning yellow. The fields and pastures are parched, and water is scarce. From Ozone north, we saw more than 20 deer browsing at the edges of parched fields or crossing the highway. I saw more road-killed deer from Ozone to Fallsville than I’ve seen anywhere else in the state total.

This particular day brought some relief, however. The temperature was in the 60s, and the sky threatened rain.

Polk was very surprised to learn there were elk in the area, and at first he didn’t believe us.

“What do you think the chances are of seeing one?” he asked.

“Where we’re going, very good,” I replied.

Rounding a curve in Boxley Valley, I saw one elk at the edge of a distant field corner. I slowed down, but Polk didn’t see it.

“Never mind that one,” I said. “Look to your right!”

About 50 cow elk were in that field, most very close to the road. Polk was awestruck. We went a little farther and saw four big bulls alone in a different field. The herd bull looked to have a giant 6x5 rack with a big drop tine on the right antler. Another was a perfect 5x5 typical. The other two were raghorns.

In another field farther down were two big flocks of wild turkeys, including about 30 half-grown poults.

And, sitting alone in a small marsh was a white trumpeter swan, with a green ID bracelet on its neck.

These signs portended great things, and we were not to be disappointed.

We entered the river at 8 a.m. Another group of fishermen was going far downstream, so we would all have elbow room. Pruitt and Polk took the pool at the parking area, while Al and I started a short distance upstream.

Al said the best fishing last week was from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. On this day, however, the fish bit immediately. Al used a Zoom Baby Brush Hawg in watermelon/red flake.

I used a YUM Craw Papi in watermelon/red flake, with a pinch of YUM Trout Krilla stuffed into the body.

Fishing side by side, we quickly hooked a couple of 10-inch smallmouths, along with a host of Ozark bass.

“If I was camping here, you’d be dinner, big fella,” Al said before releasing a thick-flanked Ozark bass. A few casts later, Al hooked the first big fish of the day, a 16-inch smallmouth. It was a fighter, and it put on an amazing aerial display.

“All those elk, all those turkeys, a trumpeter swan and now this,” Al exclaimed. “This is like hitting a 6-iron 3 inches from the pin at 160 yards!”

Pruitt fly-fished with elaborate grasshopper imitators that he tied the night before, and Polk spin- fished with watermelon/red flake lizards. Both caught fish. Soon, they worked upstream and joined us. I thought it might be a little crowded, but the mood was very jovial, and we all caught fish at roughly the same pace without getting in each other’s way.

It started raining at about 9:30 a.m. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled across the ridge tops. Al was nervous and talked about leaving.

“It’s not hitting the ground anywhere, and besides, lightning hits the tallest contact,” I said. “Let’s keep going. If it gets wild, we can boogie.”

The fish got really active when the rain hit the water.

With no flow for so long, the water probably had very little dissolved oxygen. Rain oxygenates water, and fish darted everywhere. Before the rain, we caught them in the deepest parts of the pools against the banks. In the rain, we caught them everywhere. I hooked what was probably the biggest bass of the day in about 6 inches of water. It grabbed my Craw Papi and merely swam away. I set the hook, which was like shifting a 4-wheel drive pickup into “granny gear.” I fought it for a short while before it made one hard surge and snapped my line.

The highlight of the day occurred when I made a long cast that took out all my line. I mean, all of it. The knot on the spool gave way, and I caught the tag end with my fingers before it slipped through the guides. Wrapping the tag end around my fingers, I started hauling in line with my hands. I felt a tug, so I whipped my body around and used what little leverage the rod provided to set the hook.

“No way!” Al yelled. “No.

Freakin’. Way!”

“Way, dude,” I huffed, trying hard to haul the fish in by hand. I almost had it, too, but I let in some slack at the end, and the fish threw the hook. Al laughed himself into a violent coughing fit.

That was almost as good as the cigar smoker. He whipped around to set the hook and plunged the burning end of the cigar into his bicep and burned a hole in his shirt.

At 1 p.m., we called it quits. Al craved a cheeseburger and slice of blueberry pie from the Oark general store. I didn’t have any pie, but my chocolate malt really did have malt.

A lot of malt. And the cheeseburger was as good as advertised.

The fishing was even better.