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Author Topic: CARP ... ? - Jim Larsen  (Read 2376 times)

Offline Terry_Green

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CARP ... ? - Jim Larsen
« on: February 26, 2004, 04:38:00 PM »

By Jim Larsen

          Carp? Just the mere mention of the word leaves a bad taste in my mouth! Yuck! These huge, scaly, prehistoric looking tackle busters are a fisherman’s worst nightmare. It seems that every time that I’m seriously involved in catching fish for frying I latch on to one of these demons and they bust my line, steal my bait, and they have even gone so far as to break a rod or two. But come springtime, when the rains cause the Maple River to flood, I seek my revenge.

     Springtime is the Achilles heel for the carp as the rivers swell, spilling over their banks and into the fields and pastures. The sun beating down on these floodings warms the water and beckons the spawning carp to leave the river to spawn.

     As the sun begins to rise in the east, greeting the Robins and various springtime creatures, I am greeted to the sound of carp rolling in the shallows. SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! A large grin comes across my face as I slowly sneak towards the murky shallows. The carp are so numerous that I have a hard time deciding where to start, but the huge dorsal fin seems to be waving at me from about 30 feet away.

     As I enter the water, I slowly raise my Bear Kodiak recurve, watching the large female close the distance with two smaller males in tow. Carp have great eyesight and will bolt at the slightest movement, especially if they’ve been shot at a time or two. When my gloved finger reaches the corner of my mouth I release the heavy fiberglass shaft. KERSPLASH! A direct hit! Line quickly peels off of my tape on bow reel as I lean back with my bow using it like a fishing pole. I hold the bow with one hand and grab the braided nylon line with the other and begin pulling her in.

The barbed point holds securely as I hoist the 20+ lb. behemoth up. I unscrew the tip and the barbs flip forward to allow me to take the carp off. I then slide a rope that I’ve brought with me, through the mouth and gills, and tie off to a tree near the bank.

    “Revenge is mine,” I say to myself while checking over my equipment for damage. I then wind the line back on the reel and begin searching for my next opponent.
     I slowly wade towards a patch of reeds that are swirling from being fanned by a carp’s tail. My eyes strain to catch a glimpse of a shadowy form, a protruding dorsal fin, or the tip of a huge tail. Suddenly the surface of the water forms a V as the carp slowly swims by my position. I begin my draw and just before I release the carp darts off making my shot bury in the muck behind it. Well, nobody said this would be easy, but it sure is fun.

     I spend a couple of hours and shoot quite a few carp. They have been spooked enough by my intrusion and they head to the safety of the river and deeper water. As I drag my rope full of fish behind me, I wipe a spot of mud from my face. Tired, muddy, and wet I reflect on why I am there and I think to myself, “Where else could I have this much fun while enjoying a beautiful spring morning?”
     I hear a turkey gobble off in the distance and my thoughts turn to longbeards and longbows. My turkey season is only a week away and visions of hunting fish turn to hunting birds. And so goes the life of a traditional bowhunter.

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