I drove from Arkansas to Tennessee recently, following the back roads and taking in the beauty of spring. It was the warmest day so far this year, with 82 degrees for a high. The nice weather brought out bank fishermen by the hundreds.
It’s a phenomenon I notice every year. When the Bradford pears and plum trees start blooming, anglers young and old, male and female, gather at the water’s edge. I saw them sitting on the shores of farm ponds, creeks, lakes and rivers. Some used 5-gallon buckets for seats. Others sat in lawn chairs or just plopped down on the ground. Most were fishing with cane poles (remember good old-fashioned cane poles?). All seemed relaxed and enjoying their time outdoors.
Occasionally, I stopped to visit. “Whatcha fishin’ for?” I’d ask. Everyone answered the same: “Whatever’s biting.” On stringers and in fish baskets, I saw a potpourri of fish: crappie, largemouths, bluegills, catfish, white bass and even a few buffalo and carp.
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