By Dennis Smith
My grandson Derek called the other day to ask if I’d like to do a little cat fishing. “When?” I asked.
“Tonight,” he said. “The ditch is running and the cats are, too. With any luck we’ll catch enough for a fish fry.”
Fishing Colorado’s vast network of irrigation ditches is a given in these parts, but success hinges largely on the timing of water releases between the various lakes. When the ditches are running, there’s a more than even chance fish will migrate from the main lake body into the moving ditch water. The operative theory is that water releases from one lake and flushes a fresh food supply into the other. Fish stage at the inlets or run up the ditches to gorge on all the new groceries. The running water is also attractive to species like white bass that prefer to spawn in oxygenated water. Regardless, when the ditches are running, the fishing is definitely better. Typically, the ditch companies fill the reservoirs in spring with snowmelt, but this year the lakes were already full, so water transfers were delayed until mid-summer when farmers began depleting current supplies.
“You got bait?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“OK,” I said. “I’ll get my stuff together and meet you around eight o’clock.”
I hung up and set about collecting my gear. I quickly selected a rod and reel with a 30-pound test line from the 10 or 12 rods hanging in the shed, a pack of big catfish hooks, some heavy-duty sliding bank sinkers (to hold the bait on the bottom in the fast-moving water), beads and swivels to prevent line twist and a pair of needle-nose pliers for hook removal. Let’s see, what else? Oh yeah, a lawn chair, Coleman lantern with spare propane bottle and extra mantles, headlamp (in case the lantern fails), flashlight (in case the headlamp fails), long-handled net, sand spikes to hold the rods, water bottles and snacks, wet wipes to clean the nasty catfish slime off our hands, mosquito repellent, line clippers, a stringer to keep the fish alive until we quit for the evening, a bucket to carry them in on the short hike back to the truck. … What did I forget? Oh, a backpack to carry the tackle, tools and snacks in, and a shepherd’s hook to hang the lantern from. … Oh, and a rain jacket (you never know) and a flannel shirt to ward off the night chill.
Right about the time my wife asked me if I was going fishing or packing for a 30-day expedition to the wilderness, it hit me. This is nuts. When I was a 13-year -old, I pulled all-nighters on the creek bank with little more than a fish pole, pocket knife, can of worms and a book of matches for the fire. I don’t know if I was stupid then or just got soft in my old age, but I do know life was a lot simpler then. I kind of miss those days.