My Confession About an Angry Possum.....

Every now and then people should confess their sins. Recently at a family gathering, I made such a confession. It was after the funeral of a family member and everyone was gathered back at Aunt Rosa's house. Everyone was sitting around the table. We were all pretty sad and I decided to tell this story to make the ones gathered around that table and in the room smile. The telling of this story started something. Most everyone in the room followed it with a funny but true story of their own. Mostly involving family members. This was what the family needed and that night, as sad as that day was, is probably one of my favorite times with my family in recent memory.

First of all I think I should clear the air about a few things. First, no possums were hurt in the actual event (yes it actually happened) or the retelling of the story. Second, I will use no names because even after all these years, I'm not going to be the one to rat anyone out. Third, the actual truth may have been fractured just a little in the retelling, but my memory isn't what it used to be.

When teenage boys in a small town get bored, they tend to do stupid things. Some of those things can get you into big trouble, but some things are just dumb things that boys do. This story is about one of those dumb things.

The teenagers I grew up with in Tar Heel NC were not a bad group. Sure we did our share of dumb things, but all teenagers do. There was not a lot going on in that small town back then, and to my knowledge there is not a lot going on there now. We did most things that "normal" teens do in the rural South. We spent our time going to a couple of the bigger towns "cruising" up and down the same street over and over just to meet up with and hang out with friends, meet folks and maybe meet a few girls. We had dates with our girlfriends if we had one at the time, but the main thing we did when we were bored is just sit and talk. We would all park in the parking lot of a store that was closed for the evening and just hang out. Sometimes it was after we would drop our girlfriends off at home, or after a ballgame. Right in the middle of our little town there was a gas station that everyone knew and that is where we would meet. We were out in the open where everyone could see us and we didn't have anything to hide. A good many of us drove pickup trucks so we would park with the back of the trucks facing the main drag through town and sit on the tailgates and just hang out. I would guess that a good many folks would pass by and think "those kids are up to no good," but to be perfectly honest 98% of the time.... we were not up to anything at all, good or not. Many times local law enforcement officers would pull up and chat for a bit and see what we were up to and since everyone knew everyone in Bladen County, (and me having cops in my family) if we were "up to no good" our parents would surely know before we could even get home.

This story is about one Fall, Friday night, after the High School football game,  when we were haning out doing nothing. There were a group of guys just hanging out at the old Field's Shell station in Tar Heel. I remember it was fall because a few of the local farmers had harvested their corn for the year and we had decided to do something else that we did back then when we were bored, and that was spotlighting deer. Another thing I probably need to explain is back then, spotlighting deer was perfectly legal in certain counties under certain conditions. You could not have a firearm in the vehicle, it had to be before 11 pm, and you could not shine the light in a residence. The common practice was for a bunch of us to pile into one pickup truck. One of us would drive, of course, one would operate the spotlight and the rest would ride in the back of the truck and hang on. This particular night we were in my truck. I drove a blue 1986 GMC short bed 4 wheel drive truck. It was nothing fancy but not a bad truck at all and more than adequate for such an adventure.

We had not been up to much that night, I remember I was between girlfriends, so I had nothing to do, and didn't feel much like riding all the way to town to cruise town. Around 8pm or so, there were quite a few of us in the parking lot of that old store, and we decided to all pile into my pickup and go see if we could spot a few deer in our local area. We were pretty successful that night having seen possibly around 60 deer that night and it was getting close to 11pm and we were making our way back to the store when we noticed in a cut corn field there were about 3 possums pretty close to the dirt road we were on. One of the fellas jumped out of the back of the truck yelling, "Shine The LIGHT!" I brought the old truck to a stop and my friend with the spotlight held it steady while the "jumper" ran down the possum. I swear, it seemed like his legs were already running before his feet hit the ground. He then picked up a corn stalk and tapped one of the possums on the back. Well, the stories you have heard about opossums playing dead is absolutely true. The critter rolled over with all four feet straight up in the air. My friend then picked it up by the tail and had the look on his face as if to say, "ok, now what?" One of the other guys noticed that I had two or three corn sacks in the back of my truck that had been shoved under diamond tread tool box. It was deer season, and I had been putting corn in the deer feeders. My observant friend took one the sacks to the possum runner and they now had a slightly angry possum in the sack.

This is not the actual possum from the story, but a pic if found on the net, but you get the idea. 

The story only gets more redneck from here folks. The question is what do you do with a very much alive possum that your friend has run down and placed in a corn sack? After pondering the idea for a short time, one of us in the crowd had an idea (most likely the one who ran him down). I honestly don't remember who's idea it was... but, I guess that part is not really important. We all loaded up in my truck and headed back to the store and at this point it was well after 11pm. It was back at the store that we carried out our evil plan.

The store we hung out at had news paper vending machines out front. You know the kind, you put in your money and the machine will let you open the door and retrieve the newspaper you have just paid for. I do distinctly remember digging in the door pocket of my truck to find a quarter for the machine. After opening the door (and retrieving my paper), my athletic friend who ran down the critter opened the bag and put the possum in the machine. If you think about it, it was perfect, the door to those machines had a slot to put a paper in so the front page would be on display. This meant the animal could not see out, and the prey who would open the door could not see what they were getting themselves into.

Your average paper machine. Again, not the one from the actual story, but one I found on the net. 

The idea was to hide our vehicles and hide close by and watch as the "paperman" loaded the box. It just so happened the paperman was running his route at around midnight. So there we were when the car pulled up, trying not to laugh out loud and draw attention to ourselves. The unsuspecting paperman walked up to the paper machine with an arm load of freshly printed Saturday morning papers. He then opened the door with his key and propped it open with his leg. It was at this point the possum woke up and the paperman was eyeball to eyeball with one very angry possum. We were not close enough to hear it, but I would imagine it was hissing at him. As the papers flew up in the air we could not contain our laughter. I don't know who that fella was, but I'm pretty sure the names he was calling us were not learned in Sunday School at the local Baptist Church. He then got in his car and sped away. What happened to the possum you ask? As best as I can recall, it was last seen after it had escaped it's temporary jail running into the patch of woods behind the store never to been seen or bothered by dumb teenage boys again. 

Consider the Lowly Catfish

For some reason when people think of catfishing they conjure up thoughts of someone neck deep in muddy water trying to catch fish by hand or they think of drunk rednecks. I will admit the latter will come to mind of you hang around a few bodies of water I remember fishing. Despite these images and the reputation of the catfish being a "dirty bottom feeder,"  I would like to clear the air (or water) and the reputation of fellow fishermen. I would also like to submit the idea that the lowly catfish is not a "trash fish" as it has been called by many so called "sport fishermen" but one of the best tasting fish in freshwater. To understand the stigma that follows catfish and the anglers that pursue the odd looking fish we should look at the critter itself and why I and others like me, enjoy the sport.

If you have read anything I have ever written, you know I grew up on the banks of the Cape Fear River in Southeastern NC. I remember sitting on the front steps of the house I grew up in and watching the trucks hauling boats down to the river every Friday or Saturday evening during the warm weather months. Everyone in that area knows that the river is home to some of the biggest cats in the state. Some nights the parking lot at the boat ramp close to Mom and Dad's would be full of trucks and boat trailers and a line of folks waiting to put their boats in the water and try their luck. Why are so many folks after cats? That's an easy one to answer, they taste good, they are fairly easy to catch, you don't have to spend tons of money on gear and, because they are not considered "game fish,"  there is no limit in the area I grew up in. Oh... and one more thing... Flatheads and Blue Cats can grow to be HUGE!

My Son Logan while on a Catfishing trip on the Cape Fear with Rod and Reel

Many of those anglers were "jugging" or setting "bush hooks" while others were bottom fishing with rod and reel. No matter the technique they were all after cats. Setting bush hooks is a process that is a lot like setting "trotlines" except there is one hook on a line and tied to a overhanging tree limb. The line would be baited with fresh cut bait, night crawlers, or chicken, beef or deer liver. Most would tie a "slip loop" in the line so you could tell if there was something on the line by looking to see if the loop was still in the line or not. Jugging is a process very similar but instead of tieing the line to a tree limb you tie it to an empty milk jug with your name and phone number on it and toss it in various spots in the river in what we call a "string." A string is just a bunch of jugs in a line to cover a certain part of the river. The fish take the bait and cannot take the empty tightly sealed jug of air under water and you come back and pick up jugs collecting your fish. These days people have thought of many different ways of rigging "jugs" by using PVC pipe and pool noodles but the basics are still the same.

My favorite way to catch cats is using a rod and reel. Picking the gear to catfish with can be tricky at best when fishing in big rivers. There are different species of cats in NC and there is no telling which one will bite or how big it is going to be. Cats can range from a few pounds to upwards around 80 to 100 lbs. I prefer to use heavy rods and open face reels with around 40 lb test line and a light set drag. I set the drag light because I have had the disappointment of getting a good size fish on the line only to have him break my line when the monster decided to go deep in a hurry. There are many ways to rig for cats but the rig I have been most successful with is a one ounce egg sinker with a circle hook rigged so it can roll along the bottom. Very similar to how you would rig for surf fishing for flounder but with bigger gear.

It is a common fisherman's tell that they only bite at night. Although they do actively feed at night, I have caught cats in the mornings, in the cool of the evenings and of course during the nighttime hours. On a serious note: If you do decide to fish at night, please know the body of water you are fishing and the dangers of navigating the river at night. Know proper boat safety and have the appropriate safety gear and have the gear and a plan for if you get stranded or your boat overturns. I tell my boy that I never want him to be afraid of the water or the river itself, but the second you do not respect the Cape Fear, or other rivers like it, it will kill you. I have spent most of my life doing Fire/Rescue and EMS work and have pulled many bodies out of the water that can attest to that fact.

3 lb "Bullhead" Cat caught in cold water. 

As mentioned earlier there are a few different species of Cats in the waterways of NC. The "bullhead" cat is the smaller of the bunch (the only cat native to most waterways in NC). They have a squared tailfin and can grow up to 8 lbs generally they are much smaller. "Blue" Catfish have been introduced to the rivers of NC and can grow much larger. The blue is sought after due to the size and many have said they taste better than other species. They have a forked tail fin, are a heavy bodied fish and have a bluish grey color. Blues can grow to 100 lbs and above in the proper environment. Channel Cats are one of the most popular fish in North America. They can grow to be 50 lbs or more and have a forked tail and an olive to bluish hue. Last but not least is the "Flathead" Catfish. The flathead has a square tailfin and is known to grow in excess of 100 lbs. Each species of cat has it's preferred feeding habits and habitat and the rivers, lakes and ponds of NC provide just such environments.

What is my favorite catfish? My common answer to that question is one filleted, breaded and fried. Which brings me to the whole reason many of us around the South flock to the rivers and lakes. Catfish have a reputation of having a "muddy" taste and have found this true in some cases but "Most" of the cats I have had the pleasure of frying up have had a mild and sweet taste. The meat is not as "flaky" as many other whitefish from freshwater. Results may vary, but a good indication of the way the fish will taste, is the body of water you catch it in. Clearer water fish have been said to taste better than muddy water fish, but like I said, results may vary.

My Favorite Kind of Catfish ... Fried

The best way I know to prepare the catfish for the table is easy. Fillet it leaving behind the skin, bones head and guts. If you have very large fillets cut them into chunks (nuggets) or steaks, then cover with the breading of your choice. A mix of cornmeal, flour, salt and pepper is usually the basis of most breading recipes.  If you do not have a favorite recipe for fish fry breading, House Aurty makes a fine seafood breader that will do just fine. Deep fry the fillets in grease around 360 degrees. I prefer to use a cast iron pan and vegetable oil or peanut oil. If you are married,  you might want to do this outdoors so your spouse will not fuss about the "fishy" odor in the house. This is also a good excuse to go buy a good outdoor gas fish/turkey fryer that every good southern outdoorsman should own.  Serve with coleslaw and hushpuppies, although I have made a fine meal out of fried fillets and "light bread" (sliced loaf bread to yankees) The most important ingredient you need for a good southern fish fry is family and good friends.

Another common falsehood is that catfish can "sting" you. Some folks think that the "whiskers" of the catfish can hurt you in some way. This is simply not true. These barbels are is how the fish "smells." The concern of being hurt or "stuck" by the catfish comes from the dorsal and pectoral fins that can be very hard and somewhat sharp (esp in smaller fish). This can simply be avoided by holding the fish behind these fins. If you are like me I keep a good pair of fishing gloves with rubber coated palms so I can get a good grip on the fish, but I have no problems handling the fish with my bare hands.

A smaller "Blue Cat" being held the correct way

Catfishing on the rivers of Southeastern North Carolina has always been about something different than putting food on the table for me. I love a good fish fry more than most people, but there is more to the story. Money cannot buy what I have gotten out of the time I have spent on that old muddy water of the Cape Fear or the black water in the Cypress swamps of the Black River. I have had the pleasure of sitting on the river at night or in the cool of the evening after a hot summer day relaxing. I have heard the great horned owl's call echo tough the river bottoms and it sound like a choir of owls singing back and forth across the river to each other. (We called them "hoot owls" growing up.) I have also sat on the river bank or in a small jon boat at night and watched the lightning bugs light up the trees on the river banks like christmas trees. I have many good memories with family and friends while catfishing.  These few things that I remember so fondly have made it about so much more than just pursuing the lowly catfish.

"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing
 that it is not fish they are after."~ Henry David Thoreau