My boys were living and working in Beloit, Wis. several years ago, and my son Darren had discovered that the Rock River that runs through town holds a healthy number of smallmouth bass. When he had spare time, he walked the banks, cast and caught the willing residents. While visiting, Darren invited me to walk the bank of the river with him to test some bass on small crankbaits. It didn’t take long to find them ready and willing, and as we cast and caught the smallies, an elderly lady called from her front porch near the river, “Catchin’ any?” She asked pleasantly.

We figured she had been watching us and knew that we indeed were.

Darren answered with an affirmative and held up a fish for her to see before he released it.

“If you have any to spare, I’d sure like one for my supper.”

“Absolutely! I’ll bring the next one up to you,” he promised.

She gave him a thumbs up and we continued to cast. The next bite changed the day for all of us. Darren was casting his lure with an ultralight spinning rod spooled with new 4-pound monofilament. Suddenly, something big tried to rip it from his hands!

“Whoa! This is a good one… a really good one! I don’t think it’s a smallie!”

With that, I moved over to watch the battle. Suddenly, the fish headed determinedly for the middle of the river… and then kept going… and going… until it reached the far bank… and stopped.

Fortunately, everything held together, including the new line. Then the fish started back to the middle of the river and showed no sign of tiring! Its new tactic was to start moving downriver, which required us to pass the little rod back and forth around the trunks of the sycamore trees that lined the bank. Finally, the fish surfaced in the middle of the river—a huge flathead catfish! We needed help. I called John!

“Do you have a landing net? Darren has a monster catfish hooked!”

I gave him directions, and in 15 minutes, he arrived with both a camera and net!

By that time, the big cat had settled onto the bottom in about 8 feet of water. The boys kicked their shoes off and waded in with the net that was obviously too small. They threw me the rod, and I tried to hold the fish close. Finally, Darren grabbed the mouth of the fish and eased the giant to the surface. John attempted to net the monster.

The best he could do was to hold it on the surface as the three of them eased toward the bank and finally slid it onto the grass. Darren disconnected the fish from the net, unhooked the tiny crankbait, and then hefted the behemoth into the air for admiration. As we all looked it over, a voice from the porch from behind us in celebration exclaimed,

“That’s my fish! You promised me the next one was mine!”

We convinced her to let us take it to get it weighed, but none of the bait shops were open. We finally weighed it on our De-Liar and it weighed 37 pounds, which, believe it or not, was not the Illinois record for such a big flathead on 4-pound line! We finally took it back to the lady as promised but had trouble finding a place to park at her house. She must have called all her friends and family to see “her fish” and to share in the bounty! She had her picture taken with Darren and the great fish, and then with different groups of friends and family. Then she had someone put the big cat in her bathtub and waited for a friend to come and clean it so she could fry it for, in her words, “a great feast.”

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