Lunch Time 'Gills

After a wait that was far too long I finally got to head to the lake. Friday morning and I went to teach a class only to find out it was changed to next week. From there I went to a meeting where the lady looked at me with glazed eyes when I told her some pricing. Guess she thought working all day plus buying material wasn’t worth $25.00. So, I went fishing.

I had planned on going anyway but after all that I had to get away for a few minutes. I stopped off long enough at Big Charlie’s Bait shop and Fried Pie Emporium to grab a tube of crickets and an apple pie. Driving the last few miles munching on fried dough and apples, hoping the recent floods hadn’t done too much damage I was happy to just get out. As I pulled into one of my favorite spots to fish for bluegill I saw signs of the flood laying in the parking lot far from the lake. Logs and smaller debris were everywhere.

I grabbed my gear and started picking my way through a big drift line littering the picnic area. Twigs to logs, it was everywhere along with mosquitoes approximately the size of sparrows. Seems flood waters make for a great skeeter breeding ground.  But I was going fishing.

I got to my spot which is the top of a bluff that is just at water level. The river channel runs against the bank and drops off to 85 feet just a few feet off the bank. Schools of bluegill cruise along just a short cast away, I usually find them down 3-4 feet. I rigged up with a Thill slip float with a bobber stop, enough split shot to pull it upright and a #8 long shank light wire hook. I put on a worm from my backyard worm ranch, threw my first cast and within a few seconds had a nice ‘gill on. The next 6 casts produced fish on worms and crickets.

Just right of my rod tip past the submerged rock is the spot.

Keeping it simple. Crickets, worms, hooks, sinkers, floats and a couple of spinning rods.

As I stopped to string what I had the guy fishing beside me asked what I was doing to catch them. He was fishing just a few feet away and couldn’t get a hit. He had been there for awhile without a fish. I told him the depth, rigging and even said throw where I was casting. He still couldn’t get it right, don’t know what he was doing wrong. I baited up and threw back and they started again. I love it when bluegill are doing this which in this spot is pretty much any day from spring to fall.

Didn't get this guy's name. Note the classic black socks with shorts. Logs are from flood.

This is about halfway through the trip.


I spent the next couple of hours repeating the process. Cricket or worm, change depth a few inches at times, swat skeeters and reel in fish. Every 5-6 I would stop to add them to my stringer. Near the end of my trip 5 guys on a party barge came trolling by just as I lifted the stringer and I heard,
“Man, look at that stringer of bluegill.”  come from the guy on the back of the boat.
They all turned to look so I’m guessing it looked good to them not just me.

This is what got the comment from the guy in the boat. 40 nice 'gills headed to the house.


After 2 hours they had slowed down since it was past noon with no wind or clouds. I had plenty to clean plus was tired of mosquitoes and biting flies, so, I packed it in. After close to a year I finally got to go spend a little time at the lake. Hopefully it won’t be that long till my next trip to Priest and my standing on the bank bluegill spot.

Well, not much of an epic tale of outdoors adventure or conquest but for anyone that has gone any length of time without getting to the lake or woods you can understand this was a big deal. This was a great couple of hours even with heat and bugs. I would happily brave both tomorrow and do it all again just to watch that float disappear.

Fly By

I remembered this one after talking with all of my flyfishing friends. I’ve said before that I’m not a fly fisherman but at one time me and my buddies thought we would be. We even managed to catch fish which is amazing considering how bad we were. But we tried and good trip or bad we still had fun.

This is what we invisioned. Photo credit: James Cates


Me and Joey had decided to become the next great thing in flyfishing in our area. Of course we knew exactly zero about it but that didn’t stop us or even slow us down. After reading articles in magazines guaranteeing our present and future success we set about our new adventures as fly fishermen. I had been given a couple heavy fly rods with automatic reels loaded with some kind of floating line, Joey had gotten a combo pack from one of the local stores with everything included. These things had to be 8 weight rods which we deemed suitable since we were going to be big time bass catchers with them. We bought some flies shown in a magazine, tried to figure out how tippets worked, picked out a couple of popping bugs and headed to the pond.

Photo credit: Shamelessly used from the internet. Thanks to poster.


The idea that just maybe learning to cast in the yard before we went fishing had been mentioned then disregarded as unnecessary. Our test pond in Shelby Park is full of fish. Bass, bluegill and crappie were there for the taking, all of which, the magazines assured us, would willing leap onto all of their top picks in the fly department. We got pond side, rigged up, then proceeded to head down the bank least infested with trees. We stripped line off our reels then started what can best be described as flailing about, trying to get our popping bugs moving forward in the general direction of some water. This resulted in several sonic booms as line tips cracked like whips and popping bugs became as dust in the wind, gently drifting to earth in a puff of balsa and feathers, leaving sad bare hooks behind.

We repeated this until we got our timing down enough to (A) not destroy the fly (B) not hook ourselves or tangle on our rods (3) finally hit somewhere in the pond without a splash like we had thrown a log in. We began a strip, pause, strip retrieve which much to our surprise little bluegill would check out and take despite our bad technique. We caught a few that day, even a couple of small bass which led us to believe we were ready for bigger and better things like big bass or maybe a nice rainbow trout. The fact that all of our streams are pretty much warm, slow moving water which didn’t have trout mattered not at all. We had it figured out.

Photo credit: another shameless use of the internet. Thanks to the poster.


A couple of counties away from Nashville we knew of a trout farm that used a spring to form ponds with water that stayed cold year round. Some fish got loose to inhabit the creek downstream for a mile or two. I can’t remember how we knew this but it really was true. People would fish this creek, Yellow Creek as I recall, to catch good trout in a part of the state where they normally couldn‘t live. That was enough for us, so off we go.

We drove for an hour or so arriving at streamside just as the sun was coming through the trees to light our way as mist lifted off the water. Pulling off to park on a gravel spot used by locals beside a road barely wide enough for our car this was our first step into the world of trout fishing. Summer temps were headed up fast but we were wet wading a shaded stream with cold water so didn’t need to worry about that. It turned out, just about midday, to be a good thing that we weren’t wearing waders. Choosing some trout flies, we eased into the water to get busy with the catching. Joey headed upstream while I headed downstream casting in our newly learned stealthy manner, barely raising more than a light froth and foam from the water.

Photo credit: James Cates


I went along getting the odd cast or two in the general vicinity of an undercut bank, mid stream rock or clump of tree roots. I was awarded for my effort with some bluegill along with more than a few flies left dangling from branches which had somehow gotten in the way of my backcasts. This was how I spent my morning until I decided to head back to find Joey to share notes and grab some lunch.

I waded back upstream, finally finding him at the downstream end of a large hole. He had his rod tucked under his right arm pointing straight up as he tied on a new offering. Just as he started to tighten the knot I saw a few ripples form around his knees, which was how far the water came up on his legs. He did that half lurch forward we all do when slipping on rocks while wading, hips going forward as his shoulders tilted back, then just disappeared. Hardly a splash at all, just not there, like the creek had inhaled him. As I stood there with my jaw hanging open all I could see was about 2 feet of his rod sticking above the surface. I threw my rod down on the bank to try and help when his rod began thrashing around in circles, bobbing up and down, then he popped back up amid much cussing and splashing. I got to him and helped him get to the bank. Other than being wet turns out he was fine, didn’t even drop his rod or lose his fly case.

We sat there getting warmed up, laughing about his swim. Turns out he was standing on the edge of a drop off he couldn’t tell was there. Some optical illusion caused the bottom to look flat even though it dropped a good 8-9 feet which is where Joey had decided to stop. One more step before I got there and I would have missed all the fun.

We finished up our day without anyone drowning or catching a single trout. This last part isn’t a surprise considering our complete lack of skill or knowledge. This was about the point we realized we weren’t good at creek fishing with fly rods, switching our efforts to local ponds and lakes with more success on warm water fish. We did get fairly good at catching bluegill or an odd bass or two but moved on before long to casting and spinning tackle never really going back to fly rods.

All my friends talking about fly fishing makes me want to pick one up again to revisit my youth as a would be fly slinger. Watching them post great pics of flies they are tying or have ordered just adds to my wanting to give it another go. Maybe I will get a chance to pick up a half decent outfit to join back in their fun, catch a few fish, add to the selection on my rod rack, tackle boxes and memories.

April on the Stones

This is one of my favorite spots. It is also where the tornado hit.


I stepped into the north side of the river where it narrows creating faster water only a few inches deep. Crossing in a couple of steps to the gravel island covered in water grass, low growing willow trees and button ball bushes, then turn left to the first pool. The river cuts around both ends of the island coming back together in the middle of the riverbed. Here it splits again into 3 deeper, faster runs combining 50 yards downstream into a wider pool. After that it’s rapids with small waterfalls dropping into the next pool. Repeat this for about a ¼ of a mile. Trees and bushes line the banks with rocks covering the bottom dotted here and there with islands of gravel, willows and button ball bushes. The first pool never yields fish, nor do the 3 runs but below it, in that next pool things change. It’s early spring, sun warming air and water, buds turn to tiny leaves, fish start to move, once again it is time for redeye.

The Stones River starts as a bit of nothing. A series of creeks you can step across. As they join force and begin to grow the East and West Forks of the Stones take shape. These two come together near Smyrna just south of Nashville. In the late 60s the Stones was dammed to form J. Percy Priest lake. Heavily fished and a huge recreational draw, Priest is what I consider my home lake. But this is about places that lie upstream. Above the old hand built Nice Mill dam 23 miles upstream of the main dam there are places no boat is needed, few people fish and we can travel back to times when a few small fish were all we expected.


In April when waters begin to warm and March high waters have dropped I start to check the river watching for the first water plants to green up along shallow rocks and shoals. This little bit of sign is what I need to know spring wading season is beginning. Not the high tech of fly fishermen just waders to stay warm, a small pack with a few baits and my trusty 5 foot ultra light spinning rod. Many people think this is a quest for river smallmouth or spotted bass, called Kentuckys in this area. You catch these and an occasional largemouth some weighing several pounds but I am after redeye. A member of the sunfish family, they move into chunk rocks and ledges in early spring to spawn. Good to eat, a blast to catch, they fight hard on light tackle and are usually very aggressive.


Over ten years ago during a bout of boredom I decided to grab a rod and head over to the river. I lived five minutes away and traveled past this piece of water at least twice daily but like most people had never taken the time to fish it. The cool thing, it is right in the middle of a fairly large town and almost no one fishes it. It has a greenway running miles of it’s length and is still under fished. The few people that take time to try it are mostly clueless as to what it holds and how to fish for them, this suits me fine.


Redeye during most of the year are spread out and nocturnal. We catch a few night fishing for bass. During several weeks in spring they bunch up in rocky areas along select sections and this is when I hit the water. Tackle is simple, a small spinning reel loaded with 6 lb line, a 5 ft ultra light rod and a few spinners. The fish are suckers for blue and white spinners and a small Rocket Shad works best. They hit this until nothing is left, tearing the skirt to shreds, knocking hooks off, even the blades. Other baits work but nothing like this. You can catch them drifting small crawfish but they are so aggressive the spinner is more fun and less work. So, armed with a few baits and a tiny spinning rod you can be headed for great fun. We have fished jigs and small crank baits which produce but maybe only 1 to every 10-15 the spinners do.

Note the Rocket Shad, THE bait on this stretch of river.

I have found a few slab rocks, holes and slots that always hold the biggest fish. These spots need to be fished correctly even to within inches to get a strike but years of practice have paid off. Most fish prefer banks with current and stay away from mid stream structure or the slower side of the river. I wade down stream using a quartering cast cross current, casting as close to the bank as possible, even onto the bank at times, and begin a steady retrieve. When the spinner gets to a drop off I will let it fall, slowing the retrieve for a couple of feet then speeding it back up. This simple technique causing savage strikes especially from larger fish. For shallow areas with deep cuts going down into the rocks I speed the bait up to create a wake so I have the fun of top water strikes. The strikes are hard, never a subtle pick up and like all of their family they fight.


The fast water just below falls or rapids form eddies behind rocks and the ends of gravel bars along the banks which hold fish but be sure to try the downstream side of larger rocks in the fast current. Deep cuts with ledges or deep small pools on the fast side of the river will consistently hold fish. If you catch fish in a spot within a day or two more have moved in to replace them.


As weeks go by larger fish move in and a full stringer is common. This goes on for about four weeks, when largemouth start to hit you know the redeye are winding down. This all happens here just as leaves are showing. As an added bonus other residents of the river are starting to hit, shell crackers, bream (brim), crappie, bluegill and bass are starting to become more active.

Look at the fish touching the reel, this is a bonus, a shell cracker.


Just getting out this time of year when weather can be iffy at best is a treat. Simple tackle and techniques along with a river free of anyone except an occasional wood duck or heron, what a fine way to spend a bit of time. I have no doubt that somewhere near you is an overlooked piece of water that is calling your name. Do a bit of scouting, scale back your equipment and go enjoy creeks and small rivers like we did as kids.


Sadly, two years ago the exact spot I fish was hit with an EF-3 tornado. It ripped up islands, destroyed all the covering trees and shrubs changing the river drastically. Last year we were hit with a 500 year flood, spring will tell how much the river has changed and if my spots still hold fish. I will be there searching and hoping my little stretch of the Stones has started to recover.