a small one...

AKA: polyhumper bait.

Riversend wrote on Apr 15^th, 2010 at 11:23am:

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Riversend,

Well, I know you can't be referring to my BWJ photos.   Stu has long since advised me, "Jim, you suck as a photographer [quite true].  It's best you get Darrel or somebody that knows what to do with camera to send in THEIR photos if you're going to submit a story!"  

I DID once have a photo attributed to me in a commercial magazine.  It was in the BWJ's winter '09 issue on page 37.  Of course, it was lacking the telltale sign of MY photography... a prominent, tree-like, giant thumb appearing at an odd angle across most of the intended shot.  That page 37 pic also credits me with having incredible speed for my advanced age... especially since the subject of the picture - 20 yards away - is, in fact, ME.  I'm really pretty fast for an old fart but that acknowledgment gives me way too much credit.  

Speaking of thumbprint shots, I may actually have a photo somewhere where the small pollyhumper I snagged was not completely obscured by my "digital" incompetence.  I'll see if I can't dig it up & post it here sometime this week... an actual bonafide pollyhumper smolt.  When you suffer the misfortune of having the truly LARGE pollyhumper take your bait, trust me, there AIN'T time for taking pictures!  Best just to grab your beating stick right away.   If you're smart, you've lashed it immediately under your seat right next to your firearms (the German Lueger my father brought home from WW2 works well when I can avoid the teeth, reach through the gills, and shoot up into its head).    

Alas, the most you can ever hope to do is slow one down.  Think "Ahab"....

Later,

Jimbo  

jimbo: any chance of posting your bwj photo of which you speak here so I could get a look :question....I think I would very much like to see the photo, but not so much so that I am willing to go forth in quest of the magazine. If not able to post because of copyrite or some other goofy type of reason.....well how about a graphic description of the scene, or at the very least an artist scetch such as those scetches by courtroom artists  ....I take it that the photo must be of a winter ice fishing scene as it's in the winter issue, and I figgure you may fish on an isolated occasion  ....reguardless, thanks for the info on what to do in the event that the truly LARGE pollyhumper takes your bait ...but not sure I'll have the courage  to view your pollyhumper smolt photo    you see, there are two questions often asked on QJ
#1...whhhhhhats under a scotsmans kilt  :exclamation  :question
#2...whaaaaaaaats a polyhumper  :question...
I,ve never asked the answer to either as I figgured the answer to either may be the same... something fishy   ........
well, I'd better move along with my day now and ponder some of lifes other great mysteries.......  

Riversend,

What's funny is that I cannot locate the source photo for the pic appearing in the winter issue of the BWJ.  Apparently I did not think so much of it, myself, as it is not included in my Jimboree '09 pics, appearing in the Inukshuk Photo Gallery.   Of course, that's probably due to the fact that I didn't take the danged pic in the first place.  As I've indicated: 1) it was too good a shot to be mine, and 2) even I can't be in two places at once (though my boss seems to think so).  I'm thinking my son must have taken that shot.  It's essentially a "water reflection shot" with one rightside-up Jimbo & one upside-down Jimbo.

It's way too much of me for any one pic; I dare not reproduce it in any form save by stick figures drawn in the sand at the next QJ barbecue.

Interestingly enough, I've had a couple friends opine that Stu actually got the pic that he printed in in his magazine upside down.  They tell me there are subtle tell-tale clues, etc.  I'm sure I couldn't tell the difference, anyway.  Bottom line: there ain't any trademark thumb obscuring the image so it is indisputably not mine.

Now, re: pollyhumper smolt...

Here is yet another pic that I didn't take (again, it's missing my trademark) with me tussling with a young'in pollyhumper: (You need to Login or Register to view media files and links)

In my excitement, I clearly lost my concentration on pollyhumper protocols & mishandled the smolt.  Obviously, my fishing pole should have been in my left hand (for defensive reasons) when the fish predictably lunged for my head (why do they always do that?!)!  My "beating stick" (complete with four eight inch spikes on the end of it) should have been in my right hand (since I'm right-handed & thereby could deliver a sufficiently neutralizing blow).  Regretably, the club remained lashed under my stern seat and I was already way too engaged with my adversary, anyway.  When I finally regained my focus, I had to employ every manuever in my pollyhumper repertoire in my desperate attempt to avoid his deadly-quick four foot retractable darting tongue (think: tree frog & bug... with my head as the bug).  Fortunately for me, my quick-thinking bow paddler, queticopassage/Bo, had greater presence of mind during the entire ruckus.  He cooly fired off a few quick shots off with the Lueger in his right hand while he snapped this pic with the camera in his left hand (I've always said that Bo was multi-talented).  So, instead of ripping my head off or spearing my eyeballs with its darting tongue, the shocked fish smacked broadside across my body as it snapped its tail, knocking me clear into the water and nearly upsetting our SR17.  Once again, quick-witted Bo came to my rescue.  It wasn't so much the water that worried me.  Hypothermia was not a concern as the lake was plenty warm (prime pollyhumper fishing/harpooning time is early July) and the smolt was way too rattled (being riddled with bullets as it was) to cause further mischief or injury.  Nope, my primary concern at that particular moment was "momma".  She HAD to be nearby.  After Bo blasted "baby", not only did I want to be OUT of the the water, I wanted to be OFF that lake in the worst way!  

Again, remember Ahab's provocations & the vindictiveness of Moby Dick.

Fortunately, Bo threw me a line & dragged my butt over to the shoreline.   We hustled like hell & got the canoe out of the water, without issue.  Then we hauled all of our gear about a quarter mile through the brush where, luckily, we ran across a portage.  It wasn't really the portage we were looking for but, hey, any portage in a storm, right?

We traipsed close enough to the shoreline to witness momma's dorsal fin cruising slowly up & down & up & down the water's edge.  Sadly, she snagged two or three loons and I think what must have been an otter as she hunted for us.  Her smell alone was incredible.  I'm not sure what that damned thing eats but the putrid odor of rotting flesh was unmistakeable.  I retched about three times before we put a couple hundred meters between us & it going down that portage path!  Bo claimed his cigar smoke made the difference for him; he didn't lose his lunch like I did.

Well, like I always say, "I'd rather lose lunch than be lunch."

The encounter was perhaps one of my ten most dangerous moments messing with the pollyhumpers of Quetico.

Maybe someday I'll tell you about the other nine....

Jimbo