When I was a teen in Nashville, I hunted carp on Priest Lake. It being a man-made lake with a dam, the shore line was malleable by 40'-60' depending on time of year. In the late spring, when they let millions of gallons of water out, the carp would be caught outside the main body of water, and die by the thousands each summer.
I made a sport every year of going out in the early spring, and hunting for them in the shade among the trees where they would swim the tall grasses. My technique evolved from a frog gig on the shore....to eventually wading barefoot in 12-14" shallows with a sidewalk scraper. You could spear them completely through with 4 barbed tines, and they were still capable of ripping themselves to pieces and getting away.
But if you were very patient, and stalked them by moving slowly, they could be had with one strike right behind the head. The trick was to move slowly enough to track their movement which you see see direction and speed from the grasses moving. 36" wasn't uncommon.
I still remember one bad boy that close to 4'. It took 2 of us to haul it back to my buddies house a few hundred yards up the trail. We put it in the tub with water and a couple ice cube trays to keep it fresh. His mom came home from work and was in the middle of toilet time when......as it turned out, that wasn't a killing blow. It woke up, started thrashing and skeered her right off her potty break. As I recall, that was the last time my friend was allowed to hang out with me.
As it was. I still believe it was all those many hrs put into quietly stalking barefoot through muddy water that finally taught me patience.
I made a sport every year of going out in the early spring, and hunting for them in the shade among the trees where they would swim the tall grasses. My technique evolved from a frog gig on the shore....to eventually wading barefoot in 12-14" shallows with a sidewalk scraper. You could spear them completely through with 4 barbed tines, and they were still capable of ripping themselves to pieces and getting away.
But if you were very patient, and stalked them by moving slowly, they could be had with one strike right behind the head. The trick was to move slowly enough to track their movement which you see see direction and speed from the grasses moving. 36" wasn't uncommon.
I still remember one bad boy that close to 4'. It took 2 of us to haul it back to my buddies house a few hundred yards up the trail. We put it in the tub with water and a couple ice cube trays to keep it fresh. His mom came home from work and was in the middle of toilet time when......as it turned out, that wasn't a killing blow. It woke up, started thrashing and skeered her right off her potty break. As I recall, that was the last time my friend was allowed to hang out with me.
As it was. I still believe it was all those many hrs put into quietly stalking barefoot through muddy water that finally taught me patience.