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Ennis was resting comfortably in the front seat of the bateau, having just retrieved his lure. Some sixty feet beyond the bow of the bateau a large bass crashed an unsuspecting victim, probably some small minnow resting on the surface of the water, visible to the big bass as it cruised the depths below. I quietly spoke to Ennis pointing to where the big bass had engulfed the bait fish. This wasn't necessary as his lure was already arching through the air and landed about five feet beyond where the water was still boiling. Back paddling to stop the boat's forward movement I watched as the spinner on Ennis' Dalton Special kicked up a little geyser of water right over the target. The water swirled under the lure and we both stopped breathing, nothing happened. He twitched the rod tip again, then again, the little spinner emitting its sputtering sound each time, still nothing. He retrieved the lure back to the boat allowing the spinner to revolve slowly. As he lifted the lure from the water Ennis turned in my direction with a look of a child that had just dropped his ice cream cone. In anticipation of a strike at Ennis' lure, I had stopped back paddling and had allowed the bateau to drift forward its full length. (Over the ensuing years Ennis has accused me of doing this on purpose.) A tree trunk was now between Ennis and where the bass had struck. He turned with a look of disgust, grunted something and pointed, sort of a signal for me to give it a try. |
Ennis Pittman |
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