It was a Jack-the-Ripper night. The sky was dark, the air thick and damp and the moon just a sliver dancing between flashing black thunderheads. Downstream, coyotes howled.
The river raged, high and muddy, so my partner and I opted to fish from a country bridge instead of launching a boat.
We fished by lantern light, drifting baits beneath a logjam around the pilings. By midnight we had four flatheads apiece, all 3- to 5-pounders. It was then a bigger cat hit
and it started ...Read full story