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There are professional fishermen among us. Here in the Heartland, especially Northwest Tennessee, there are more professional crappie and catfishermen per capita than anywhere else in the country. Most anglers, however, are just your average, everyday fisherman, but there’s something to be said for that. The first rule to being an everyday fisherman, is not fishing every day. Actually, only fishing about one day out of seven is normal, and even that is sometimes a stretch. This rule applies unless you’re retired and you do fish every day, in which case who cares what you’re called, you’ve earned the right to fish every day, which by most accounts makes you a success story that we all strive towards. The everyday

I was back on the “Foot” this past week, where the weather was hot and the fishing was slow, at least for my target species, the majestic crappie! Now every other type of fish in the lake was jumping in the boat, and a less stubborn man would have altered his tactics and target to attain success, but while I may not be very patient, I am bull-headed! I always see the weather-folks warning people of the heat, “stay inside,” “carry plenty of water,” “avoid the midday sun,” and so on. Being a moderately young and extremely tough (it’s my column, and I can describe myself how I see fit) outdoorsman, I pay no attention to such trivial warnings.

Well, my rampant abroad-ness has been continued yet another week, and so brings another action-packed adventure from just outside the Heartland, kind of. I spent the last three days on the “big water”, which of course is Kentucky Lake. Stretching 184 miles and covering 160,000 acres, Kentucky Lake is the largest manmade lake in the Eastern United States. The Tennessee River runs through the lake and is controlled at the 1-mile-long Kentucky Dam. Oddly enough, I had never fished the lake before Thursday, but when something else fell through and I had the chance to go fish the Crappie Master’s Tennessee State Championship, I called up my old fishing buddy/stepdad Perry Jackson and made plans in a hurry! Chippy was

I always figured I’d end up on a stage in LA, and this past weekend it came to fruition. Of course the big city lights were replaced by sunrises and sunsets, the movie stars were instead friendly Cajuns, and Santa Monica Boulevard was a cypress laden bayou. Northern Louisiana is home to one of, if not the best, crappie fishing lakes I’ve ever visited. Lake D’arbonne is reminiscent of Reelfoot in that it is full of stumps, but where it varies is the bottom contours and channels, among other things. Looking at a detailed map of the lake shows dips, rises, ridges, ditches, flats, channels and so on. There are plainly marked boat lanes that allow you to run wide

Possibly the most abroad this Heartlander has ever been (it’s difficult to count the miles with your eyes clinched shut, gripped in fear because the jet-propelled, patchwork rust-bucket you’re crammed in is convulsing through the whatsos-sphere like a Chinese bottle rocket with a broken stick,) the St. John’s River might had well of been on another continent. The pristine, inter-coastal swamp offered a backdrop that would have been enough to make the trip worthwhile on its own, but the wildlife that inhabited the tranquil current, both above and below the water’s surface, was easily the main attraction. I was tucked in a quaint cottage overlooking the river at the Hontoon Landing Resort and Marina in beautiful West Volusia, Florida, and