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Conservation-This Was The Summer By: Kevin Williams, Grundy County Conservation Director

This summer was the summer – for catfishing. As the Wolf Creek water level got lower and lower, I got together my gear and the most important part of my fishing package – my grandson, Tate. I started fishing Wolf Creek for channel catfish years ago with my son, Sean, Tate’s father. A dear friend now gone, Bill Elmore, taught us how to float a piece of creek chub around the deep bend of the creek for “cat”. After a couple of tries without success, you move quietly upstream to the next hole and do the same. I remember the first catfish Sean caught and the particular bend in the creek. That was many moons ago. Well, this summer the conditions were right. Our catfishing crew has grown over the years. In fact, we have “teams” now. There is Team Williams I (Grandpa and Tate) and Team Williams II (Tate’s folks – Sean & Heidi). I should also note that Team Williams II members are highly competitive between themselves and the other team. After catching enough creek chubs at our bridge, we would head out for Wolf Creek. One team would fish the first bend with the other cutting across the pasture to a couple of bends up stream. Teams then “hopscotch” each other up the creek until dark. This year, our team caught the first fish. It was Tate that had the first catfish hooked. Through experience, we’ve learned to reel in when the other fisherman has a fish as to not get lines tangled and fish lost. The story ended in disappointment, however, as the line broke when the fish was almost in Grandpa’s reach. I enjoy catching catfish but that is nothing to watching your grandson fighting a big cat. First it comes to the surface with a splash. Then it makes a run upstream and then maybe back downstream. To an eight-year old it is like catching a marlin. It was a good year. Sean remarked that Bill would be grinning ear to ear if he was along watching. And a special time for me was watching Tate catch one at the very bend his dad caught his first catfish. I don’t know how many trips I took this summer catfishing (I’m sure Tate could tell you). I don’t know for sure how many catfish the teams landed but at one point I recall Tate saying we were at eleven so I think he could give you the final tally, too. But in the end, it isn’t or wasn’t about the numbers. It was about watching young eyes (and old) grow wide with excitement when a fish is hooked. It was catching frogs in the pasture for desperately needed extra bait. Finding cool things to look at and talk about. A highlight being the bison bone we discovered protruding out of the side of the cutbank. This year was so much fun, that Grandma even came home from work one evening and took a walk up the creek with me – a rod & reel in hand. In fact, she had the “biggest fish” award going until daughter-in-law, Heidi, edged her out Labor Day weekend! There are a lot of stories that I would relate if the 500 word “suggestion” from the editor wasn’t looming (and over). But I did want to throw in one last. Heidi (remember I told you she is a bit competitive) has a never give up spirit. After pretty much getting skunked one afternoon, she continued to fish our way down the creek back to the car. I had mentioned earlier that a couple of rocky stretches of the creek were nice smallmouth bass spots. What does Heidi hook on her last bend of the evening? A fifteen-inch smallmouth! Kinda made for the catch of the day. You can bet that I am looking forward to next summer. There is at least a third Team Williams interested in joining our “tournament” – our grandson Turner, and his dad and our son, Seth. Needless to say, there are quite a number of catfish fillets in our freezer. At one point, Tate told me “Grandpa, we have enough for a fish feed for our whole Williams family. And I am looking forward to that this winter.

Conservation-This Was The Summer By: Kevin Williams, Grundy County Conservation Director

This summer was the summer – for catfishing. As the Wolf Creek water level got lower and lower, I got together my gear and the most important part of my fishing package – my grandson, Tate. I started fishing Wolf Creek for channel catfish years ago with my son, Sean, Tate’s father. A dear friend now gone, Bill Elmore, taught us how to float a piece of creek chub around the deep bend of the creek for “cat”. After a couple of tries without success, you move quietly upstream to the next hole and do the same. I remember the first catfish Sean caught and the particular bend in the creek. That was many moons ago. Well, this summer the conditions were right. Our catfishing crew has grown over the years. In fact, we have “teams” now. There is Team Williams I (Grandpa and Tate) and Team Williams II (Tate’s folks – Sean & Heidi). I should also note that Team Williams II members are highly competitive between themselves and the other team. After catching enough creek chubs at our bridge, we would head out for Wolf Creek. One team would fish the first bend with the other cutting across the pasture to a couple of bends up stream. Teams then “hopscotch” each other up the creek until dark. This year, our team caught the first fish. It was Tate that had the first catfish hooked. Through experience, we’ve learned to reel in when the other fisherman has a fish as to not get lines tangled and fish lost. The story ended in disappointment, however, as the line broke when the fish was almost in Grandpa’s reach. I enjoy catching catfish but that is nothing to watching your grandson fighting a big cat. First it comes to the surface with a splash. Then it makes a run upstream and then maybe back downstream. To an eight-year old it is like catching a marlin. It was a good year. Sean remarked that Bill would be grinning ear to ear if he was along watching. And a special time for me was watching Tate catch one at the very bend his dad caught his first catfish. I don’t know how many trips I took this summer catfishing (I’m sure Tate could tell you). I don’t know for sure how many catfish the teams landed but at one point I recall Tate saying we were at eleven so I think he could give you the final tally, too. But in the end, it isn’t or wasn’t about the numbers. It was about watching young eyes (and old) grow wide with excitement when a fish is hooked. It was catching frogs in the pasture for desperately needed extra bait. Finding cool things to look at and talk about. A highlight being the bison bone we discovered protruding out of the side of the cutbank. This year was so much fun, that Grandma even came home from work one evening and took a walk up the creek with me – a rod & reel in hand. In fact, she had the “biggest fish” award going until daughter-in-law, Heidi, edged her out Labor Day weekend! There are a lot of stories that I would relate if the 500 word “suggestion” from the editor wasn’t looming (and over). But I did want to throw in one last. Heidi (remember I told you she is a bit competitive) has a never give up spirit. After pretty much getting skunked one afternoon, she continued to fish our way down the creek back to the car. I had mentioned earlier that a couple of rocky stretches of the creek were nice smallmouth bass spots. What does Heidi hook on her last bend of the evening? A fifteen-inch smallmouth! Kinda made for the catch of the day. You can bet that I am looking forward to next summer. There is at least a third Team Williams interested in joining our “tournament” – our grandson Turner, and his dad and our son, Seth. Needless to say, there are quite a number of catfish fillets in our freezer. At one point, Tate told me “Grandpa, we have enough for a fish feed for our whole Williams family. And I am looking forward to that this winter.