Having spent the majority of my childhood and adult life in the Grayling area of Northern Michigan I have been blessed with countless opportunities to hunt and fish.  As a child most of my fishing consisted of wading through brushy shorelines along small creeks and rivers looking for brook trout and the occasional rainbow or brown.  In my late teens and early adulthood I began to build an intense fondness toward panfish and bass fishing and have been targeting them for the past 25+ years.  Having recently moved to the Beaverton area my passion for panfish and bass has become even deeper as this area provides some of the best crappie and smallmouth bass fishing to be found.  I honestly never thought there would be a thrill as great as feeling a 15 inch crappie peeling away my 2 pound test line. The rush of a 20 inch smallmouth bass as he makes a mighty leap toward the sky.  How could any other fish bring such joy to one man?  Well that question was recently answered.

    A couple weeks ago I was in one of my favorite smallmouth bass fishing holes on a local river.  The fishing was slow but the weather was great so I kept my line in the water just to enjoy the weather.  As I slowly worked my Berkley Gulp Shaky Worm along the bottom and up and over each rock or log in the deep hole I would feel the occasional tap of a small fish tasting my lure but not willing to eat it.  Each consecutive cast would bring one small nibble, one slight tap, and then one big snag.

    Having thought my lure had cleared the pile of rock hugging the bottom of the river I let it slip slowly down into the current.  When I thought it was on the bottom I gently lifted my rod tip to bring the soft plastic worm to life, but this time it would not budge.  I was sure it was free of all snags but apparently I was mistaken.  I had a feeling my hook was really buried into something so I just gave it one big tug in hopes of breaking the line.  Well that one big tug was answered by a bigger tug on the other end.

    Before I knew it my line was being peeled from my spool in a slow steady pace down stream.  I quickly began to back reel as the fish headed toward another hole slightly down river.  Not wanting the fish to get into another tangle of rocks or submerged logs I started applying more pressure on my line and began turning the big fish back up stream.  He was wearing down and making his way toward the surface.  Now it just felt like there was a 10 pound weight attached to my line.  No pulling, no thrashing, just dead weight.  Just as I  raised the fish to the surface and realized I had hooked my first catfish he let me know why so many anglers enjoy targeting catfish.

    With the force of a small bull dozer the channel cat made a slow but mighty dive toward the bottom.  There was nothing I could do but hold on and hope he did not make it back into the rocks.  As his pace slowed and my  line came to a stop I once again worked the mighty catfish toward the surface, gently lifting my rod tip toward the sky.  When it reached the surface I could tell this fish was whipped and eased my way to shore, carefully dragging the worn out fish with me.  After a five minute battle that seemed like hours my first catfish surrendered to me.

    At 26 inches, and just over 8 pounds that catfish showed me an entirely new thrill in angling.  .  Not only are they great fighters but they are so ugly that you just have to eat them.  I had heard that fresh catfish was great but was always skeptical.  A skeptic I am no longer.  The thick white fillets coated with our own homemade rub and pan fried in olive oil rivaled the best panfish fillets I have ever eaten.  So now when the panfish and bass fishing is slow I am targeting catfish.  I have yet to catch another but can not wait to feel the mighty tug of the catfish.