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One fall, I made the 250 mile trip to Sam Rayburn to meet my son Michael who
came up from Houston. We had an enjoyable day and caught quite a few fish, but the thing that makes the trip memorable wasn’t
the fish, but a bird.
As dark was approaching, we were fishing along a brush line, throwing top water baits into openings
in the brush line. As we worked along the brush line we noticed a Bittern (medium-sized, brown bird with skinny legs and long,
sharp beak) that seemed to be always close by. This bird would land on one of the branches or stumps protruding above the
water’s surface and sit there motionless, waiting for its next meal to swim by. However, when our path brought the boat
a little too close to the bird’s perch, it would fly on down the brush line a few yards, find a new perch and resume
its quest. The pattern of perching a few yards ahead of us, then flying when we got too close continued for quite a distance,
however we began to notice that each time the bird allowed the boat to get a little closer before moving. Finally, we reached
a point that we were passing the bird’s perch and it had not yet spooked.
I had launched a long cast with my
top water toward an open spot in the brush just past where the bird was perched. Just at the same time, the bird decided it
was time to move and attempted to fly off, only to hit the line trailing the topwater bait I had just cast. When it hit the
line, the bird became entangled, did a roll and flip and crashed to the water. I then preceded to reel in line, bringing the
bird and lure toward the boat, accompanied by a lot of squawking and thrashing about.
After getting it reeled back
to the boat, I grabbed the line and lifted the bird into the boat. As soon as its feet touched the deck, the bird stopped
squawking and thrashing and became very still and quiet, but watching us warily. I could see that the bird had a loop of line
around its neck and around one wing and knew that somehow we had to get it off.
At this point I looked back to the
front of the boat to find Michael sitting there almost in tears from laughing so hard. Finally he said he was through laughing
and guessed I could use some help in freeing the bird. He told me that he would grab the bird and hold it while I unwound
the line.
He came toward the back deck and reached to grab the bird, only to be met by a lightning-quick stab of that
sharp beak! The back of his hand was now bleeding freely from the bird’s attack. At this point, he was no longer laughing,
but I have to admit that I had to stifle a snicker or two!
Time for plan B! We searched around in the boat and found
a towel, which I threw over the bird, then I grabbed the bird and held it while Michael unwound the line from its neck and
wing. Once the line was removed, he tossed the bird into the air and it immediately flew off, apparently none the worse
for its experience; but it said goodbye with several indignant squawks as it departed.
We were left with a unique
memory, but I suspect the bird left with a healthy suspicion of boats that get too close!
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