I want to preface this article with the thought that, when you are young, you sometimes do stupid things that you wouldn't dream of doing when you get older. Years ago when we were young men and boys, my brothers and I enjoyed fishing. We would hook up with some cousins or uncles or entire families and spend the day fishing on Bayou D'Loutre in north-central Louisiana. The Looter, as we called it, is a beautiful stream. We spent many of our boyhood days fishing along its banks.
Sometimes, several families spent the day together fishing and cooking out on the banks of the bayou. I have many fond memories of good times with family and friends running and playing in the woods while our folks fished. Around mid to late morning, some of the grownups stopped long enough to prepare lunch. They fried fish and potatoes over an open fire. My, oh my, it was good! Good eats with good friends. I cherish those memories.
In those days we didn't always obey the law or observe all the regulations in regard to fishing and hunting. We actually employed several means of catching fish that were illegal at the time. They still are, for that matter, so I would not recommend these methods to anyone today.
One way we sometimes caught catfish was to use an old crank-type telephone connected to a wire in the water. On the other end of the wire we had a chain that would drag along the stream's bottom. As we floated downstream we cranked the telephone, which sent an electric current down to the chain. If the chain touched an underwater log or old tree top that a catfish was hiding under it could shock the fish. This would temporarily stun the fish, which caused it to rise to the surface where we quickly scooped it up with a dip net. You had to act quickly because, once you touched the catfish, it came to life and would swim away if not caught in the net. We caught some pretty big catfish this way, but you had to be prepared to get the heck out of there if a game warden came along.
Another way some of my older brothers and uncles fished was to take a piece of lit dynamite -- not a whole stick -- and throw it into a fishing hole. This would kill most of the fish in that hole, and all you had to do was to go out in your boat and pick them up. I was too young for this type of fishing. The only exposure I ever had with it was when I found a stick of dynamite laying on the ground outside the barn where my brothers kept it hidden. I was probably 7 or 8 at the time. I took it to my mother, who promptly had a panic attack. I'm not sure how anyone was able to get a hold of any dynamite, but times were different back then. Maybe you could use it to blast stumps or something.
One Saturday morning, my brothers and I took a little fishing trip with some cousins and uncles. Of course, it wasn't your typical fishing outing, but then I doubt if we were your typical fishing crew. There were about 20 of us, all told, and we were a motley-looking outfit. At 18, I was one of the youngest ones on this trip.
There were several fishing holes on D'Loutre where we would go fishing, such as the Board Yard, Clear Branch, the Old Henry Place and Phillips Ferry. But on that particular day, we needed a place far from the public eye and hidden from any game wardens. Since our method of catching fish was, strictly speaking, against the law, we were not too keen on getting caught. So we headed down to Pine Island, which was about as isolated as you could get on Bayou D'Loutre. As a matter of fact, it was not too difficult for a person to get lost down around Pine Island. That whole area was mostly a big old swamp.
Back then, we were all a little on the wild side so, of course, there was plenty of beer. And, although it was a fishing trip, no one had a pole or any of our usual fishing equipment. In fact, we were aiming to catch some fish in a totally unorthodox manner. It involved the use of lime. You see, lime takes all the oxygen out of the water so that the fish can't breathe. This forces them to the surface where they are easy pickings for anyone who wants to scoop them up. All you have to do is reach down and pick up the fish and throw them to shore. Other, more sober folks can take them from there.
There were a few drawbacks to this approach, but by far the biggest was the fact that the lime would literally burn your skin. Any sort of clothing was out of the question since it produced massive amounts of chafing and raw spots in the more sensitive places. For this reason you could not wear any clothing in the water. This resulted in some odd-looking fishermen who had absolutely nothing on except for cowboy hats and cowboy boots -- and Vaseline. We spread Vaseline liberally on all the tender spots to protect our sensitive skin from the lime.
We were a sight for sore eyes -- I can tell you that. For reasons of propriety, we needed to be in an isolated location. After a few beers, though, we could handle any embarrassment amongst ourselves, and the pain of the chafing. In fact, there was a general air of hilarity. Some of us could not stand up straight for laughing. Or, perhaps it was the beer.
We caught fish barehanded, then lost them just as quickly. They finned us; we stepped in holes and lost our balance. There were all sorts of underwater obstacles. Under such conditions, it didn't take much to dislodge a fish from our hands. We laughed our heads off and a great time was had by all.
On the way home, a big rain came up and we had to push the pickup trucks out by hand. Fortunately, there were plenty of willing hands to do the pushing while others jumped up and down on the back bumpers. And, yes, we had our jeans back on by then. We finally got home safely with a big mess of fish. And that was life on the bayou 45 years ago.
Sam Byrnes is a Gentry area resident who has been gardening from his youth. He may be contacted by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 09/23/2015