This time of year brings thoughts of tight lines, trophy fish and the excitement of the one that didn’t get away. The thing is I like it hot, and I’m not much for winter fishing in the cold or sitting in a hut waiting on a fish to bite. Nope. I’m a fair-weather fisherman.
I remember growing up and fishing with ice forming on my rod on the first day of trout season in the middle of April. In more recent years, the middle of April brings warm weather, and I’m grateful for the change. I love fishing in spring, summer and fall. That’s when I love to feel the tug of an eager fish pulling my line.
Once spring trout season is here, then comes the advent of summer bass fishing, and that all means that the ice in the far north is soon to be coming off the lakes for a few weeks or so.
That brings me to thoughts of Barbra. Barbra Burbot.
The first time I ever saw a burbot, it was wrapped around my guide’s arm like a snake.
I thought I was seeing things. There are no snakes in the frozen north. Yet, here, right in front of me was the ugliest something I had ever seen. It was flopping like a fish at one end and slithering like a snake around my guide’s arm at the other.
It was early in the morning. I had just finished breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, ham, toast and canned fruit. And I was bursting at the seams. And now I’m thinking I’m seeing things. Maybe it’s indigestion.
But, no. Here I’m standing next to my boat. I’m ready to head out on the lake. My guide is in the back of the boat waiting for me to climb aboard with this thing wrapping itself all around him.
No way am I getting into any boat with … whatever it is … wrestling with the guide. It’s flapping around like it just couldn’t wait to transition its position from the guide to me. No way.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What do you mean what is it? What is what?”
“That thing you’re trying to control with one arm while it’s got a hold of your other. Some kind of weird girlfriend?”
“You mean this?” As my guide held it out for me to take a better look.
“Disgusting. What is it?”
“It’s a sea monster,” he said.
“Baloney. What is it?”
“It’s a burbot.”
“A what?”
“I just caught it. I had to do something while I was waiting for you to stop eating.” This particular guide had a way about him.
“What’s a burbot?” I didn’t want to get any closer.
“It’s like an eel and a dark colored bullhead catfish rolled into one,” he said. “See the little scales covering its thick skin. Want to hold it? It’s really slimy.”
I could see the slime oozing off the thing onto my guide’s shirt. It was downright ugly with its mottled yellows and browns.
“Nope. I can see just fine from where I’m standing.” It had the markings of a wild cat, and the way it was carrying on, I thought maybe it was related.
The guide told me that in addition to being ugly, burbot aren’t strong swimmers. They rely on camouflage. He pointed out its sensitive lateral line which it uses to identify and capture food. Now I think I’m getting sick.
The guide showed me its strong triangular shaped jaw, which I saw was filled with rows of tiny teeth. This apparatus was designed to secure and swallow live prey. It was also designed to get a hold of and tear up a fisherman’s fingers.
The burbot had grabbed onto a black rubber worm my guide was fishing.
“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.
“Lunch.”
“For you maybe. I’m having cookies.”
“Burbot aren’t bad tasting,” he said.
“I don’t care if they taste like chicken. I’m not eating it. And, I’m not getting into the boat until you get rid of that thing.”
“You’re kidding right?”
I looked him dead on. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“OK. Here’s the deal. I’ll put the burbot here into my net, keep her in the water, and we’ll go out a mile or so and show you what it can do. Can we at least do that?” he asked.
“Alright. As long as that thing stays at your end of the boat.”
I stepped into the front of the boat. Sat down. And off we went. Not once did I take my eyes off the guide. It didn’t take long until he stopped the boat and asked me to hand him the business end of my line.
He dug into his own tackle box. He pulled out a large hook and attached it. Then he told me to sit still while he got a hold of Barbra. Very funny, I thought. This thing now has its own name.
The guide gets the burbot out of his net. He grabs her. She grabs him. Just lovely. He puts the hook into Barbra’s nose and tosses her overboard.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Let some line out and let Barbra do her thing.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep. Now let some of your line out and quit acting like you don’t know how to fish.”
“OK.”
No more had I started to let out line and wham! Barbra had company. All 20 pounds or so of running, diving, thrashing lake trout.
I maneuvered the laker into the cradle. Beautiful fish. But, there, Barbra was hanging half in and half out of the laker’s mouth.
The guide carefully removed the hook and released the lake trout. He reattached Barbra to the end of my line. Threw her overboard.
Repeat. About the same size laker.
The third time a laker attacked Barbra. It pulled her off the hook. Barbra left me. She was gone.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about this.
I really didn’t like Barbra very much. She was downright ugly. One end was full of teeth. One end was a snake tail. And she was slimy all over.
Yet, Barbra sure could attract fish.
I guess beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
I ate lake trout for lunch. Then my cookies.
Bill Gindlesperger is a central Pennsylvanian, Dickinson College graduate, Pennsylvania System Of Higher Education (PASSHE) Governor, Shippensburg University Trustee, and Chairman of eLynxx Solutions. The firm provides enterprise-level cloud-software for communicating, specifying, approving, procuring, producing, reporting and activities necessary to obtaining direct mail, packaging, promo, marketing and all other printing. He is a board member, campaign advisor, successful entrepreneur, published author and commentator. He can be reached at[email protected].
