This Bull is a beauty...

…

Late in the evening is a special time on Gridleak Bayou. All is quiet and still in preparation for the coming darkness. I sit motionless in my little bass rig, The Lazy Boy (my trollin’ motor powered bass fishin’ pedal boat). The air is cool, the water like glass and I am careful not to disturb this absolute serenity. My rod and real lays propped over the bow with the omnipresent yellow-bellied torpedo swinging inches above the water as if inviting one last fish to hang itself. Tied to a cleat on the boat, several nice bass wait patiently at the end of a green nylon stringer.


As I enjoy this moment of solitude I admire my catch. I can ALMOST smell them cooking. Cornmeal-breaded bass lightly-salted and pan fried in hot grease. Accompanied by pealed, sliced and lightly salt and peppered fried potatoes. Perhaps a slice of onion added to enhance the flavor and delight the senses. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply through my nose, snifffffff, ahhh! By golly, I CAN smell them cooking!


But wait, something is missing. Somethings not quite right about this stringer of fish and this perfect vision. There is some… absence, some, aroma, of bass, potatoes and onions, cooking to a light golden brown. Something that only the most discerning of connoisseurs could distinguish. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply through my nose, I search each aroma in turn.


Sniff, onion, sniff-sniff, potatoes, sniff, sniff, sniff, bass. Then as if on queue, in the deepest of voices, the missing ingredient announces itself. AHH-OOOM! AHH-OOOM!


That’s it! Bullfrogs!


As if in answer to the thought itself, bullfrogs being plural, another a little farther down the bayou, and not to be outdone, announces itself. AHH-OOOM! AHH-OOOM! AHH-OOOM!


Most, in fact all, frog tales I have ever heard or read, which are actually very few, dealt with frog gigging. This is a method I have never used. Gigging is usually done at night with a bright light and a specially made frog gig. I have often examined gigs. Gigs are much like small pitchforks with three closely spaced, very sharp, barbed tines. Having a slight aversion to barbs, this seemed very cruel to me, for the frog, and I never had a taste for it. Besides, your pant’s leg would not have time to dry by the time you arrived at the nearest clinic to have one of these removed.


As boys, while catfishing late at night, my father would allow me and my brother to take a bright light to blind the frogs and using my grandfathers 1890 model U.S. Cavalry .22 caliber sidearm with rat shot, sneak up behind the frogs and blow their brains out. Sort of.


In fact, .22 caliber rat shot has no slug and is used in grain silos to kill rats without making a hole in burlap bags. Thus reducing the possibility of an eleven-year-old, alone with a gun, accidentally shooting a hole in his foot. One must get very close to the frog, no more then a foot away, and a well placed shot between the eyes actually only knocks the frog unconscious for a few seconds. One would then have to grab the frog before it came to and holding the amphibian by his back legs, dash him against the ground in order to dispatch him. This somehow seemed less cruel to me. Go figure.


One extremely dark night while hunting bullfrogs on a large stock tank in southwestern Oklahoma, my brother and I came upon a huge and particularly unlucky, or lucky, depending on your point of view, bullfrog. With much excitement as we crept up behind the big bull, we turned the light on and off alternately blinding first the frog, then ourselves, coming to a complete halt and standing straight up and calmly conversing about nothing in general while waiting for our vision to return. In the final moments, creeping as close as we dared while I pointed the pistol at what should be the head of the frog, my brother flipped on the light. There was the huge frog, a foot away and squarely in my sights. I squeezed the trigger. POW! With what amounted to a freshly placed powder burn on the back of his skull, the frog squatted and winced. Then with what was probably shear reflexes the huge bullfrog jumped ten feet out into the water. There I imagine he lay spread eagle and unconscious, but alive, as he sank to the bottom. Disappointed with this turn of events we moved on.


About an hour later, with several frogs to our credit, we returned to the location where the big bull had been. There to our amazement sat the huge frog. Identifiable by the powder burn to the back of his skull, seemingly none the worse for wear, waiting for something to eat. My brother, now carrying the gun, quickly stooped over and fired a second round to the back of the frog’s head. The frog squatted, winced, and jumped ten feet out into the water. Again, I imagine he lay spread eagle and unconscious, but alive, as he sank to the bottom. Once again, disappointed with this turn of events we moved on.


This scene was repeated once more during the night. Each times the frog being identifiable by an additional powder burn to his cranium. We returned several times after that, but the big frog did not. Acknowledging the worst, we finally gave up and returned to camp.


The next morning while looking for firewood, we came upon another huge bullfrog sitting on the bank below a five-foot high bluff. Having left the pistol back at camp we had nothing to use to catch the frog. Still, we had to see this huge bullfrog. Sneaking up under cover of the bluff we peeked over the edge. Sitting there was the big bull with three powder-burns on his noggin. No less than an eighth of a mile from where we had last seen him. I was delighted to see this magnificent bullfrog only a little worse for wear.


My brother let fly the hand-ax he had been carrying to chop firewood. Cleanly cleaving approximately one-half inch off the frog’s nose. The frog did not wince, or squat. The frog leaped ten feet out into the water and with his newly opened air ways turned half around as if to finally see what was surely two bloodthirsty demons from hell, sent here to make his life miserable. Leaving his nostrils on the beach, he dove for the bottom and was gone.

To be continued...

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.

 

This post is hidden to guests.
To view this post, please log in.
If you are not a member, you will need to sign up.