Fish served amadine crossword skin#

Most straight rod-and-reel fishermen regard noodlers the same way a lot of people felt about dissident college students in the late 1960s -as an unbalanced fringe group, “the crazy one or two percent.” Conventional wisdom dictates that anyone willing to stick his arm or leg or head into a dark underwater hole-where he is likely to find a pesky forty-pound catfish or, worse, a stray water moccasin-must be, shall we say, nuttier than truite amandine. Most noodlin’ takes place along riverbanks and in rocky creeks where the current is relatively swift, places where channel and blue and flathead cats are likely to settle in with the missus and a couple dozen fish eggs during the nesting season, which lasts from early June to late July. Noodlin’, simply put, is what the good ol’ boys throughout the Republic, and particularly in the South, do when they become bored with conventional fishing-that is, they fish with their bare hands. Significant embellishments.Īll in all, an excellent fish story, but one which nevertheless fails to answer a critical question-namely, what were those divers doing poking their air hoses into the G.L.M.C.’s lair in the first place? The answer, I suspect, is that they was jes’ out for a little noodlin’, albeit, what with all that scuba gear, a highly refined brand of noodlin’. Some versions of the story are more specific the catfish had eyes the size of headlights on a pickup truck, or, better yet, as big as Cadillac headlights. On terra firma, the divers reported that the catfish weighed at least 200 pounds and had -this is the key phrase -eyes as big as headlights. Almost immediately, perhaps as long as a split second later, they decided to surface.

Fish served amadine crossword skin#

As the story has traveled around northeastern Oklahoma-and now, indeed, far beyond-a few years ago two skin divers were exploring the depths of Grand Lake of the Cherokees at the base of the Pensacola Dam, near Disney, Okla., when they stumbled across the Monster Catfish.

The key figure in the unwritten annals of modern Oklahoma fishing apocrypha is, of course, the Grand Lake Monster Catfish.