This is a true story, It just might be the reason some have said I was crazy. This story takes place in Lee County, North Carolina. Fort Bragg is where I was stationed in the army, and Spring Lake was where I went to school since 5th grade. My father was in the Air Force, at Pope AFB. After high school I join the Army there. These places were in Cumberland County, and everywhere was the military. Over in the next county was the country. So when I came home from Germany, and was out of the Army, this is where I lived.
Hwy 87 ran from Spring Lake to Sanford, the brick capital of the South. At least that is what the sign said any way. Half way between the two was Carolina Springs Golf Course, and a junk yard. That was about it except for farms, and farmers ponds. This story is about those ponds. I have never done any fishing like it since. Some of the things we did, in hind sight, I would never do again.
My best friend Smitty, bought 10 acres on the same dirt road the junk yard was on. Wooded land means no road in, and lots of trees to cut. Every weekend I was out at Smitty's cutting trees and drinking beer. We would have large bon-fires, and work out in the woods till late. We both knew McLeod up at the junk yard from getting parts. Smitty knew him all the way back in school. Smitty was older, he had been in Vietnam. I had gone in the Army as the war ended.
Understanding all of that, we worked every weekend cutting trees. McLeod's junk yard was closed on Saturdays at 1o'clock. They had a backhoe, and road grader that we used cutting in the road. We worked very hard on this because, Smitty was paying rent where he lived, as well as for the land. The idea was to get his trailer moved as soon as possible. Then when we did get the trailer moved in, the work didn't stop. We just didn't have to work as hard on it.
This is where the fishing comes in. We had permission to fish in about 4 or 5 different ponds in the area. These ponds were a good ways from the farm houses. The crop they mostly grew in this area was tobacco. Mid-summer when the tobacco was tall, we would even get into ponds, we didn't have permission. Sitting out in the middle of two counties, there wasn't any police around for 25 miles in any direction.
Sometimes on a Friday night after drinking more than a few beers. We would load up a 22 rifle, and a crate that bags of milk came in at the mess hall. The crate had a door on it so the frogs couldn't get out. We new very little about frogs, or that we were suppose gig them, not shoot them. I must say learning was the fun part thinking back on it. We are out in a boat rowing around a pond at 2 am with rifle and a net. I'm holding the light on frogs, Smitty is shooting them. I stick the net into the reeds, and water, but getting nothing. I know he is hitting them but I'm not getting any in the net.
This goes on quite awhile, until I start getting a few frog's in the net. The frogs have 3 and 4 bullet holes in their heads and still jumping around. You can not catch frogs with a gun. As the sun comes up Saturday morning we just start fishing. I catch a large mouth bass, and Smitty catches one bigger. We do this back and forth and it just stops as fast as it started. We go home with 5 nice bass and let the 3 or 4 frogs with the bullet holes in their heads go.
Now, we have invested in a gig and a bamboo pole. This is also where I get the nick name snake bait. Some thing about my being in Special Forces, I thought I was Superman or something. I have had Smitty shoot snakes out between my legs, as I ran out of the marsh. One time I could not even get the word snake out. I put the light on the biggest frog ever. I went down an embankment, on the back side of the lake. Putting the light on the frog, Smitty behind me. I get to this frog, and the light moves.
The light is shinning on the biggest water moccasin, coiled up and ready to strike this frog I just gigged. "SSSSnnnnnaakkeee, SSSSSSnnnnnnnnaaakkkeeeeee!" Don't Shoot! SSSSSnnnnn Smitty had a shotgun. We brought a shotgun, not the 22. I backed slowly backward up the embankment, took the gun from Smitty and shot. That snake skipped across the lake in dark. Yes I was scared. Not as scared as another friend was, who wanted to come see what we called fun.
Tripp, who I went to high school with was in 82nd Airborne. We are suppose to be some of the toughest the United States Army has. Tripp's father was Special Forces, and the reason I joined the Army. Well, Tripp wanted to go, so we went to this pond where we caught the bass. Nothing dangerous, it is about midnight, we are rowing around the edges, shinning the light on the bank. We are drinking beers, talking about the different times we've had. I'm in the back of the boat rowing. Tripp is in front with light, Smitty in the middle, with the 22.
Now, a little cove runs along side where the car is parked. It isn't much bigger than the driveway at your house. We are starting to enter this cove, as I row under a tree, that is hanging over the water. I see a snake drop down looking Tripp in eye, at eye level. I start back paddling as fast as I can. Smitty is twisting and turning, trying to get the gun free. Some how Tripp's leg is in the strap of the rifle. I am frantically backing the boat, and suddenly Tripp is gone. Tripp is gone, out of the boat and sitting on Smitty's car.
This is the truth so help me, the car is 30 feet away from us, with 20 feet of water. Tripp is sitting on the car cussing us. He wants to go home, and we are in the boat laughing our asses off. I row the boat to shore, and Smitty, and I go up to Tripp and feel his pants legs and they are dry. I don't know if he flew, walked on water, or what but his pants were dry. Needless to say we went home, and Tripp never went with us again.
Ever since then when I go to a restaurant, and see frog legs on the menu. I think back to these times, of plates piled high, with 20 or 30 frog legs, fried golden brown. No I have never ordered them from a restaurant, and I never plan to go gigging again. I must say I do get a smile on my face thinking of Tripp sitting on Smitty's car.
As always please share with your friends, and click on the ads. The ads don't cost you anything, and each click helps us. Deer hunting has nothing on frogs, snakes, and a couple drunks on a farmers pond.
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