Creek Fishing, Survival, Page 2

  Chapter 2. Going Up the Creek

  BINGO! That did it! The last statement knocked me out of the split personality mode and brought me to a decision. It WOULD be real easy for me to go up a side shoot off the main channel with so many twists and bends. And if I did, I’d be lost for sure. With total blackness under the tree canopy at night, I hated to even imagine how long it’d take me to get out. The good side of my split personality won out again. It usually makes sense and never fails to error on the side of caution. This time, again, I better heed it’s advice. I took another look toward the disappearing sun. It wasn’t there anymore and only the glow of where it went down still lingered. There was a good reflection on the water. That was comforting. As much as I hated to leave this spot, I figured I better leave the fish this time and come again later.

  Thankfully, the recently purchased used motor had been running fine and I thought I’d have no problems getting back to the truck before total dark. With a couple pulls on the crank cord, the little motor fired up—a very reassuring sound. As I navigated around the mouth of the creek and got started back toward the truck, I made a mental note of the many spots and marked them for the next bass fishing trip down the creek.

  In a few seconds, I was putting slowly along going nice and smooth back up the creek and came to a spot where I knew there was an underwater log. I’d hit it on the way to the lake. As I slowed down to ease over the log with the motor, I saw three stick-ups I’d marked when I came down the creek. The motor bumped over the log and I motored near the three stumps sticking out of the water about three feet just at the edge of the channel. I could almost SEE the crappie down there. My split personality kicked in again.

  “Don’t tell me you want to stop and fish a little.”

  “Just a few minutes! Just look at this spot! Plus, this is prime time for crappie!”

  “A few minutes? You can’t stop anywhere fishing for just a few minutes.”

  “This spot is perfect for crappie! Just off the main channel with three big stumps in a circle about four feet apart. Just think of the cover underwater.”

  “Every second you wait is that much closer to total darkness and we already talked about that.”

  “Look, I already have a rod rigged up for crappie fishing. All I have to do is put a minnow on the hook and drop it overboard. That’ll take no time.”

  “Look around! Are you blind? You can hardly see anything now, and it’s getting darker by the second.”

  “I can see the white floater pretty good. Good enough to see if it goes under, which should happen any second now.” As I pitched it in the water next to a stump.

  “Don’t you realize you’re about two to three miles from the truck and there’s no way you can get back there before total darkness now? What if you have trouble finding your way back to the truck? Even if you don’t run out of gas, you won’t get back to the truck before total darkness, already.”

  “Look how good the minnow is working. It’s just swimming all around the stumps. It’s going to get nailed any second.”

  “You started too late in the day to be off this far up a creek you’ve never been in before! You shouldn’t have gone to get minnows, that wasted almost a hour of time. Besides, this is the first time you tried using them, anyway. It’s getting darker and you don’t even seem to notice it.” It seemed my good side was pouting, even though right.

  “Here, just a few more seconds near the third stump. It may be getting too late to be fishing without a light. Can’t believe I haven’t caught one.”

  “Admit it, you can’t see the floater very good anymore can you? I told you it was getting dark. You haven’t caught anything either. You know how your luck is,—if something can go wrong, it will. You better go NOW!”

  Again, that voice in my head was right again. I WAS having trouble seeing the floater and it was white. Reluctantly, I pulled the minnow off the hook and threw it in the water. I could barely see it swimming on the surface. Then, I looked up the creek and only the reflection of the long ago sunset told me where the channel was. Yep, it’s already dark. The thoughts of the Amazon river and Louisiana swamps kept flashing through my mind. I got a cold shiver up my back thinking about all the overhanging limbs, and trying to navigate through the log jams. Plus, missing the sand bars, and hoping I didn’t take a wrong turn somewhere. As usual, I’d stayed too late, again. I didn’t listen to my inner voice like I should’ve and now I’d have to get back to the truck in the dark.

  A little more desperate now, I was getting a little anxious to get on the way back to the truck while there was enough light to see the channel without a flashlight. I untied the boat from the stump and shoved the boat around and started up the motor. Thank God it started up quickly. I was thankful also that I was heading back in a western direction. That gave me light from the fading sunset to see the channel. I started feeling better as I engaged the motor gear and the boat took off heading toward the truck. I felt better by the foot as the boat moved ever so smoothly up the creek. There was just enough reflected light to see the open water of the channel as I moved smoothly up the channel with the little motor just humming along.

  However, I started wondering if I was going to be able to see the channel when I got back to where the trees started? Out here under the starlight, and with the fading light of sunset, I could make out the channel pretty well. With the tree canopy, will I be able to see the channel? Besides, in the places where the channel twisted back and forth away from the western horizon, I had my doubts about being able to see the channel even in starlight. Where is the moon? Is it even going to come up tonight? Well, I decided to go as far as I could without using the flashlight for fear of running the battery down until I absolutely had to use it.

  As I was thinking about the darkness, I noticed the night air turned off rather chilly, too. I started thinking about how my inner voice kept reminding me about going to get the minnows, taking all that time, and only using one minnow. Why didn’t you just wait until after you checked out the creek before getting them? Why didn’t you start earlier in the day if you knew you were going to the lake in the creek? Why did you stop to bass fish in the creek knowing you were going to the lake and not knowing how far it was? Why didn’t you refill the gas tank on the motor just to be sure you had a full tank? Why….

  I yelled out loud, “YES!, YES! YES! WHY, WHY, WHY? Leave me alone, it’s too late now!

  Also, the statement my inner voice made about if something can go wrong..... POP! POP! STUTTER! POP!

  What’s this? Don’t tell me I am running out of gas!

  Inner voice, ….“I told you so!”

  “Shut up! I don’t have time to listen to you now. I think this motor is running out of gas.”

  “You should’ve started back to the truck before you got to the lake. You knew you were a long way from the truck.”

  Panicking a little, I grabbed the choke and pushed it up and down.

  “You’re a one cylinder motor! How can you be out of gas this soon? My lawn mower only has one cylinder and it runs much longer that this.” I argued out loud. I unscrewed the gas cap to check the quantity of gas. I grabbed the flashlight and peered inside the empty tank. “Dang it.”

  “See, you shouldn’t have stopped and bass fished in the creek earlier if you knew you were going to the lake. Why didn’t you get to the lake and then go back to fish the creek? You wouldn’t be stuck out here in the dark, and now, out of gas.”

  “You know what little voice, I don’t need this conversation right now! You’re not helping me one bit. Now look at that, sure enough, out of gas.”

  “What CAN go wrong, usually will g........”

  “ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! Shut up! It’s too late now.” I found myself yelling in the darkness as frustration and anxiety grabbed hold of me. “I’m out of gas, and a long way from the truck, and in the dark! Yes, you told me so! Now, get off my back and let me get on with getting back to the truck.” I can’
t believe I was arguing with myself. I think I’m going crazy.

  Having appeased my inner voice, and admitting that, as usual, it was right, I now hooked up the electric troll motor and started the long trek back to the truck. I didn’t turn on the flashlight so I could save the battery on the light until I just had to use it. I could still see a little for now. I started wondering if the trolling battery was going to have enough charge to get me back that far? The inner voice could be heard in the back of my mind.

  “When did you charge the battery last? Did you fully charge it or just top it off? What if the troll motor quits, what are you going to do then?”

  As I heard the questions, I mentally answered them, if not to quite the inner voice as much as, to reassure myself. Fully charged the battery before I left. Have a paddle if the motor quits. Yes, I know it’ll take me a long time to paddle back to the truck. Yes, I figure my arms will be sore if I have to paddle that far, but what else can I do? Just have to do it and suffer whatever comes. For now, the electric motor is working fine. I’ll cross the other bridges when I get to them. Those were logical answers and I felt better just stating them.

  The troll motor has four speeds and I put it on speed one to conserve battery power. Although I was moving pretty good in the near calm water, speed one just didn’t seem fast enough for me to go the distance I had to go and get back before midnight. I selected speed two and hoped the battery would hold out. I figured I’d go as far as I could on speed two and depending on how close I was to the truck, I’d change back to speed one and, maybe, not have to paddle too far before the battery went dead.

  Barely able to see now, I was going steadily down the creek and thought the troll motor was doing fine. I couldn’t detect any change in the tone which was reassuring that the battery was still with a good charge.

  Then, IT HAPPENED! Out of no where, I was being attacked by the blackbirds! There were hundreds, maybe thousands, all over me. Flapping wings! Loud noises! Hitting the reeds and descending upon me out of the black night like mosquitoes. I started swinging my arms and hitting them, but that seemed to do no good—there were just too many of them. I picked up the paddle and started swinging it for all I was worth. Meanwhile, all the moving around I did caused the motor to turn sideways and drive me into the moss.

  Now, I was STUCK, and FIGHTING the birds, which were endless. I turned the motor off because the propeller got clogged up with moss and couldn’t turn. All I could think about was the movie “The Birds” from many years ago. In the movie, the birds attacked and killed the people. I saw my eyes being pecked out, the beaks digging into my flesh taking out chunks. My inner voice was screaming at me now. I had my hands full fighting the birds. My inner voice did manage to squeeze in one chilling thought!

  “What are you going to do if you break your paddle on the birds and run out of battery power? How are you going to get back to the truck then?”

  I pictured myself trying to paddle the boat with my hands. That’d take forever.

  “No! inner voice, I’ll just walk back to the truck.”

  “You’re crazy!” it yelled back. “You can’t walk out over all the cut-offs you’ve crossed! With all the twists and turns the creek makes, you don’t even know what direction to go! Besides, walking through these woods at night without a light! Give me a break!”

  Again, the inner voice was right. The birds were thick. I saw the black images descending from the black night sky. There was cloud cover which darkened the sky, but it wasn’t as dark as the birds coming down through it. I was frantic now, swinging crazily. That voice taunting me so loud in all the chaos,…broken paddle.., darkness.., no electric motor.., so far from the truck.., more time.., earlier in the day. I could hardly think straight and figured for a few seconds, “I AM going crazy!” However, I did put the paddle down. That was a real danger and could really happen.

  Why was I being ATTACKED? Lighting thoughts zipped through my mind. Did the birds think I was a threat to them? Was I in the middle of their nesting area? Were they defending their young? Did they think I was another stump for them to light on? Why were they not on the snags in the lake anymore? Did something scare them away from the lake? The questions were as endless as the birds. All I knew was, I was fighting for my life and I don’t think the birds cared one bit. I wanted to reach down and pull up the troll motor and get the moss off the prop so I could start moving again. How was I going to do that and still have flesh on my head and back?

  The shrieking, squawking, scratching, grating, loud, sound! How can I stop it? The wings flapping! They were beating me. Hitting my arms, shoulders, head. I was yelling at them! Fighting! Hitting! Slapping! The birds, as panicked as I was! The endless black bodies in the air over me! So many! The propeller clogged up with moss! Not moving! Why is this happening to me? The endless inner voice screaming at me! I AM GOING CRAZY!

  Momentarily, I thought about what I could do with a shotgun. Then, just as fast as that thought flashed through my mind, I realized how totally futile that’d be. What? three, maybe five shots, then what? They’d tear me apart while I was reloading.

  Regardless, I had to take a chance and get the propeller un-clogged. I can’t move until I do that. I jerked the motor up so fast I thought it would rip off the boat. Inner voice, “great, break the motor!” I ripped the moss off the prop slinging it toward the birds while slapping at them in between tearing the moss off the prop. I grabbed the paddle and, after a couple swings at the birds, managed to paddle the boat back into the middle of the channel. Somehow, I managed to get most of the moss off the prop and slapped it back down in position. I ripped the speed control up to fourth speed and, thankfully, the boat surged quickly up the channel.

  I guess the high speed must’ve cut and slung off the remaining moss. I was thankful I was moving again, and moving pretty fast. Not very far to the woods now and I think I can make it to them without being slaughtered. The birds wouldn’t have such an open area to attack me there. Frantically, I beat off the bird attacks and tried to steer the boat in the channel and not run into the moss again. I was glad to see the birds start lessening their attack as I got closer to the woods. Never thought I’d welcome going into the dark woods as much as I looked forward to getting into them now. Finally, somehow, I got to the woods. The thick canopy overhead did just what I expected. The birds seemed reluctant to go into the woods for some reason. I was glad, and probably went another quarter mile on speed four until my inner voice reminded me about the battery charge and how much power I was using on speed four. Besides, it took me that long to get partially over the bird attack. I slowed down to speed two again and tried to figure out what just happened, and why?

  There was no explanation for what just happened at this time. I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know what could’ve caused such an attack. I checked myself all over. Nothing major. I was glad. I still heard the noise from the birds. I was glad to be away from them. I shivered over my body again. Still trying to figure out why, I, slowly, started calming down a little. The steady hum of the electric motor sounded good. I was thankful I was traveling in a western direction and saw the water by the reflected light on it. The reflections were broken by all the tree branches, but I was still moving toward the truck and away from the birds.

  The hum of the motor was a comforting sound and I liked the almost silent passage of the boat in the creek. Back-lighted by the night sky, I made out the tops of the reeds and saw the trees. I guess my eyes were adjusting well to the low light. I approached one of the shallow sand bars in a turn of the creek. I tried hard to remember if there were any stumps in that area that I had to steer clear of? The creek narrowed a good bit there and had a shallow inclined sandbar going up into the woods. Fully concentrating on the shallow and narrow area of the creek, I changed the motor to first speed to slow down just a little bit to clear the area without hitting what appeared to be a large stump near the sandbar. As the boat got close to the stump, I turned off the motor
and let the momentum of the boat carry me toward the stump. I knew I’d hit the stump with the side of the boat which should help me steer the boat in the new direction of the creek.

  The night was full of familiar and comforting sounds, many I recognized. An owl in the distance, the incessant birds behind me, crickets, grasshoppers, the occasional sound of a fish flouncing.

  Then, SCREECH!, BAM!, HOOOOW! The boat was tipping over! What in the world NOW?

  Instantly, I panicked. Was I going to turn over? How can this be? I don’t even have the motor on. The boat was tipping high on the left side. That threw me quickly to right side in the boat which threw part of my life jacket overboard. Briefly, I thought about how I should’ve been wearing it. I saw the paddle slide across the seat. It was fixing to fall out of the boat. What was happening? My mind was spinning again. Adrenaline flushed my body. I jumped back to the middle of the boat and grabbed the life jacket before it fell completely out of the boat. As I snatched it back in, I heard the light crash to the right side of the boat. Thank God I didn’t have it on a seat. My tackle box slid to the right inside the boat. I caught one of my rods just as it slid across the seat headed out of the boat. I caught the paddle just as it fell out of the boat. I turned around just in time to see a WHAT?

  HIPPOPOTAMUS? That can’t be! We don’t have Hippos here! Yes! a Hippo! Can’t be! My mind was being torn apart. The lightning thoughts were firing--well, as fast as lightning. With all the Texas ranchers importing more and more exotic game here from everywhere on earth, it wouldn’t surprise me that some fool had imported those here for hunters. That’s the only way for one to be in here that I could think of. This WAS a hunting preserve. How many TV shows of wildlife in Africa did I see where the Hippos attacked the boats? That flashed through my mind. The other part of my mind kept saying there are no Hippos here.

  My inner voice was screaming again, but I couldn’t make out what was being said because of all the other thoughts firing through my mind. What seemed like an hour, only took maybe five seconds or so, but sure enough, something had nearly turned my boat over. Amid the chaos, I replayed the events in my mind trying to figure out what happened just before my boat attack. I cut the motor off, drifted into a large stump, on purpose, to help turn the boat in the direction of the twist in the creek.

  That was it! The stump! THE STUMP CAME ALIVE! That was a Hippo, I tell you! It nearly flipped my boat and shoved it sideways as it ran down the side of the boat getting away. All I saw was the blackness of what looked like a stump in the water. But stumps can’t move and make all that noise! Well, whatever it was, it went out of the water and out from under the boat and if I didn’t do something fast, I was going to be in the water with it.

  Hippo tusks flashed in my mind. Those things are maybe ten to twelve inches long and could go straight through a person. I remembered seeing the scars of the survivors on TV and hearing their stories of how the Hippos speared them with their teeth and then held them underwater until they were almost drowned. Then, surfacing with them and flinging them like rag dolls to the banks, or away from them in the water. The stories of attacks on their boats and biting large chunks out of boats, I saw clearly in my mind.

  Already still panicked somewhat from the birds, I didn’t need much help to recharge my panic mode. In an instant, I jumped to the left side of the boat as a natural counterbalance for the capsizing boat. That brought me closer to the Hippo than I wanted. I smelled the horrible stink of it’s breath. Water splashing everywhere, the terrible screeching, the stink, the noise of me yelling, the noise of all the things in the boat being knocked and flung around. It was like the night EXPLODED!

  I tried to not fall out of the boat. The boat started righting itself as the Hippo got out from under the boat and started running up the incline into the woods. All I saw was something big and black. It looked like the stump had really come alive and attacked the boat. Immediately, the boat was too heavy on my side. Just before I flipped out of the boat, I rolled back toward the middle while trying to catch several items from getting flipped out of the boat on the right side. I managed to catch the life jacket and noticed I must’ve wet my pants. The paddle was floating by the boat and I snatched it up quickly in a little panic. As the Hippo ran off through the woods, I noticed it must’ve scarred everything within a quarter mile on the bank because there was a lot of noise, like a stampede, going through the woods. Was it cows? How they missed the trees in the dark, I’ll never know.

  Wait a minute! What are cows doing in the woods here anyway? Were there more Hippos? Those stupid Texas Hunting Ranches importing all those things here! There ought to be a law preventing that! At least the Texas Parks and Wildlife people should post signs if they import those things in a preserve like this. I didn’t know if it was me still trying to think in my panic mode or was I just still scared out of my wits? I seemed to be talking gibberish.

  As the boat settled back to a steady platform, it seemed the attack was over as fast as it started. I laid in the boat still for a few seconds just listening to the night again. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Except, my heart, it was lodged somewhere between my ears. I guess all the noise and commotion that went on, scared whatever wildlife was around, to death, like me. I noticed even the blackbirds were quite. I even noticed the stars were gone! What? How can that be? The noise scared the stars away? I’m thinking crazy! No, wait a minute, I was under a large tree limb. I felt around in the boat and seemed like I recognized everything still in the boat, but not where it was before the attack. I couldn’t believe I wet my pants. But of course, I can’t imagine many people surviving a Hippo attack and not doing that….

  No! Wait a minute! I didn’t wet my pants, I knocked over the minnow bucket and got all wet from that. Yeah, that’s what happened. Well, that’s my story anyway and I’m sticking to it. The minnow bucket WAS knocked over and I WAS wet. Sounds good to me! I got the minnow bucket and refilled it with water. No need to let them die just because I almost did.

  I searched around a few seconds for the flashlight. Had it flipped it out of the boat? Panic started up as I frantically searched the boat. Again, I made out a few “I told you sos” from my inner voice. But, what a relief when I found the light. Flipping it on a few seconds provided such security. Such warmth. I wanted to hug the light beam. That little piece of daylight, even artificial, was a real comfort to me at that time. I reorganized everything in the boat trying to settle down some and shined the light around for any more "stumps." I got the boat headed up the channel and turned the troll motor back on speed two. The hum was reassuring and the boat lurched forward. What a night! And I still had maybe one and a half miles to the truck.

  When I finally turned off the light, it surprised me how dark it was. I guess the light took away all my night vision and I couldn’t see anything but total blackness for a several seconds. Thankfully, the creek was straight for a little distance and slowly my eyes started adjusting just enough to see the trees highlighted against the night sky. I thanked God, I was moving again and for keeping me from falling out of the boat or losing everything as I flipped almost over. I also said God should punish anyone that imported Hippos into the U.S. unless they went to a zoo. I guess, I, and the woods, started calming down a little because I heard the birds again and the night sounds started coming back. It felt like my heart went back in place. The most pleasing sound to me, however, was the hum of that electric motor.

  Shortly, I noticed I was heading south in one of the twists of the creek and it was dark. I could only tell where the channel was by the trees being outlined by skylight. I couldn’t see any reflection on the water, but knew there was another turn to the west soon. When I shined the light before I started up again, I knew there was a long straight-away before the next turn. Judging by the darkness of the trees in front of me, I must be coming up on the turn. I remembered there was an area that had a lot of stumps, and some, close to the channel. I thought I must be getting close to
them by now. I started to get the light again, but decided not to. I turned the motor back down to speed one and hoped I’d be able to tell where the channel turned.

  About that time, just when I looked west to see if the channel turned, I hit one of the stumps with the motor. The sudden stop almost threw me out the front of the boat. With nothing to grab onto, I just barely stopped from falling out of the boat. I grabbed the motor handle at just the last second which saved me from falling out. The noise from the motor flexing while still on the boat was loud for the quiet night. Besides, the motor flipped sideways and the prop hit the stump and vibrated the whole boat. I turned it off as quickly as I could expecting to have broken prop blades. They were plastic. “That’s all I needed,“ I thought. That thought shot through my mind. The noise made everything in the woods quite again for a few minutes. I started to reach for the light, but didn’t want to lose my night vision, again—what little I had.

  I stuck my hand in the water and started going down the prop shaft to check on the prop.

  Then, the inner voice screamed at me, “DON’T STICK YOUR HAND IN THAT WATER!”

  Immediately, I jerked my hand out of the water and thought how stupid that was. No telling what was in the water and I couldn’t see anything. My mind pictured the Piranha following the boat just waiting for me to fall out, or ‘stick my hand in the water.’ Maybe I watch to many nature shows? Besides, all I had to do was pull the motor up to check the prop. Thanks inner voice, but next time, you don’t have to yell.

  I guess with the way the night was going so far, I wasn’t thinking to straight. I checked the prop and, thankfully, it wasn’t damaged. I slipped it back in the water and turned the motor on speed one in little bursts until I managed to navigate the turn and start heading west again. What a welcome sight to see the reflections on the water. Also, a comforting hum started up as I turned the motor back to speed two.

  Things started calming down and my night vision had pretty much returned. From the looks of the reflections, I had another good straight section heading west again. I settled back in the seat listening to the night sounds and let my mind and body calm down a little. I let my mind wander about loading the boat in the trailer and feeling the warmth of the truck heater. I needed a happy thought and replayed the few small bass I caught earlier.

  I’d gone straight for a few minutes when I saw the top of a large tree that grew right on the bank of the channel. I remembered that huge tree when I came down the creek. It had some deep water under it’s overhanging limbs. I remembered the one big limb that was only a few feet over the water. It was maybe six inches in diameter. I had a pleasant memory flashback from that very afternoon. I fished for bass under that limb and actually caught a little bass near the bank. Plus, caught several really nice bluegills. I was surprised that they hit the little crank bait I was casting. I marveled at the number of bluegills that followed the bait all the way back to the rod tip. When I lifted the rod, they scattered in an instant. But, every now and then, one got too close to the lure, or took a nip at it, and I caught it. Hard fighters for their size, I really enjoying catching them on the light tackle. My mind reminded me of the warmth of the sun that afternoon and a warm feeling coursed through my body. Just thinking about that caused a smile to creep on my face remembering the good time I had around that tree. WHAT’S THAT?

  Something moved! What’s that on that limb? A bird? No! too small. A ‘coon or ‘possum? No! still too small. What’s larger than a coon that’d be on a limb out in the middle of the woods and over a creek channel? My mind raced again. It was unreal. I pictured my mind like a computer searching my memory banks for the answer. I was getting CLOSER BY THE SECOND, my inner voice started again. Do something! THINK! THINK! My mind raced lightning thoughts, again. Cat? Too small. Dog? Yes, big enough, but impossible. A dog wouldn’t climbed that tree and be laying out here over the water. A coyote? Big enough, but not likely for the same reasons as a dog. I don’t know. THINK! IT’S MOVING AGAIN!, my inner voice yelled. I felt the hair on my body standing with fright. I was instantly full of adrenaline, but frozen in the boat. Had I turned into stone? I couldn’t move, just watching that “something.” I didn’t want to jump out of the boat. I knew the water was very deep under this limb. DO SOMETHING! The inner voice screamed.

  My body was willing and ready, but my brain didn’t have a solution worked out and I just sat there frozen as I slowly drifted toward it. What is that animal? I’d already reached the panic mode again and couldn’t control it. I wanted to reach back for the light, but it was too late. I’d be under the limb before I could get the light. STOP THE BOAT! TURN AWAY!

  My mind raced. The thoughts flashed like lightning in my head. The thoughts must’ve been crashing into each other because I couldn’t think straight, nor fast enough. How can I stop the boat? It’s not like a car. I was held captive by the movement on the limb, highlighted by the skylight. I was frozen! My inner voice screamed commands faster than I was able to react. CLOSER! CLOSER! DO SOMETHING! NOW!

  What seemed like hours, I was frozen and unable to move while my mind raced about what could be on that limb. Out of all the chaos in my mind, somehow, I got one single through to my body and muscles to take action. I reached down and turned the motor off and even turned it sideways thinking, somehow, the boat would suddenly stop. It didn’t, and without fail, I was going to be a VICTIM OF WHATEVER WAS IN THE TREE. Then it happened!

  SCHREECH! SQUAAAK! HOOOW! My mind went into full tilt! Overload! The boat continued to float directly under the limb. The awful scream blew all my thoughts away. It was too loud, and too close, for me to react with anything but an innate and automatic protective defense. I instinctively screamed. Loud! I covered my head with my arms and got ready for whatever fury was fixing to happen to me. In silhouette against the backlight of the night sky, I saw something huge move on the limb. I saw the limb bobbing up and down, moving in response to the shifting weight on it. I heard the swift swing of a paw. Something was tearing at my arms. Instinctively, I fought back.

  IT WAS SCRATCHING! FIGHTING!, I was YELLING as much as the animal and FIGHTING back for all I was worth. I felt the claws raking over my back and head. I felt the limbs as I fought them. I was going insane with fright! I fought back the urge to jump out of the boat. Fighting back and yelling was all I could do. It’s paws were moving lightning fast. I couldn’t see them, but felt the wind from them. I know all the swings didn’t hit me, but I felt the wind from the near-hits. I saw something like a paw move closer toward me and saw movement my direction on the limb. I moved too late. It swiped at my face. I felt the claws rake across my cheek. I turned my head with the swipe. It caught my shoulder and dug into it. It ripped my shirt at the shoulder. For a few instants, I had no thoughts, only survival.

  Somewhere in the chaos, my mind finally turned a notch on the cog wheel and started computing again. It was like a roulette wheel ball falling into place. It dawned on me what it was. Too large for a BEAR!, it was a PANTHER!

  Yep, big, black, and as surprised as I was! Instantly, I thought about the panther on Beouf River when I was a lot younger. I’ll never forget the scream it let out. Scared me then, and now. I guess it must’ve had it’s back to me as I approached. The silent hum of the motor probably just attracted it’s attention and it, no doubt, didn’t know what I was, any more than I knew what it was. But, like any animal, as I kept coming toward it, the animal did the only thing it could do. Defend itself from some unknown enemy. Just as fast as it started, it was over. I saw the limb still bouncing where it took off. After taking a good swipe at me, it bounced down the limb toward the trunk of the tree, then disappeared into the dark woods. I noticed I finally took a breath of air. I don’t know how long I held my breath. I just sat there not knowing exactly what just happened. Finally, my brain started working again as I caught my breath. I couldn’t believe all this was happening to me.

  I reached up and felt of my face. Luckily, only a good scratch in a co
uple places. I felt of my shoulder. I felt the tear in my shirt and knew it must be bleeding a little when I stuck my hand in my shirt to feel the wound. Another really good scratch. I guess I was lucky. I must’ve been at the very edge of it’s swing. Boy, if I’d only been a few inches closer, these scratches might’ve been fatal. A cold chill ran up my spine just thinking about it. The night sounds had stopped again. There was total silence. The silence was about as total as the darkness when I first turned off the light. The boat had turned sideways in the creek and I was several feet from the limb. Out of a short panic attack, I quickly grabbed the motor handle and ripped it up to speed four to get away from that horrible place of attack. As I moved further away, the panic subsided somewhat and I turned down the motor in slow increments back to speed two. I rubbed my face and shoulder again as the comforting hum returned to my hearing.

  I remember thanking God again for stopping what could’ve been a disaster. I negotiated another turn in the creek without incident and with the attack tree around the curve, out of sight, I slowly tried to push it out of my mind and tried to just focus on getting out of here and to the truck as soon as possible. I don’t think calm was ever going to return until I got inside the house with the doors locked. Man, how much further?

  As best I could, I had to calm down. My body was still full of adrenaline and I had no way to get rid of it in the boat. However, a log jam up ahead was an answer to what to do with the adrenaline. I shut off the motor and raised it up to clear the log jam and grabbed the paddle. I figured a little paddling would help get rid of the excess adrenaline. I actually think I was moving the boat faster than the motor was going in speed two. Anyway, I had a log jam to get over and the paddle was the best way to do it. I must’ve paddled maybe fifty yards and by then, I’d settled down a little. A little, mind you. I paddled up to the log jam and noticed I could see pretty good. I guess my improved vision was because of my full night vision now, plus the fact that the moon was up above the trees. I never noticed it coming up. I wanted so much to just get the light out and use it until it died, but that thought was even worse since I didn’t know how much further I had to go. But, the improved vision was a little comfort that I needed right now.

  I remembered the log jam. I thought about trying it for crappie when I came down the creek, but decided not to since I wanted to get to the lake. I remembered a cut-off in the creek near it also and certainly didn’t want to go up it. I remembered the cut-off had a lot of overhanging limbs and vines that I had to go under if I went up it very far. That was another adventure some day, I thought. However, it did peak my interest because it had a lot of stumps and I knew the bluegills must’ve had a New York City, complete with high rises and everything, in there. Well, maybe next time, I thought. It was comforting to be thinking about the bluegill prospects for a few minutes as I approached the log jam. Those were happy thoughts, and I needed them right now. The log jam was a little problem to get over on the way down the creek and that was in daylight. I figured it was really going to give me a problem now that it was dark. I thought strong about getting the light, but decided I’d try it first without it. If I got stuck, I’d just have to get the light out.

  With both motors up now, I eased up to the log jam. I saw the logs went almost completely across the creek. There was just enough space for me to push a limb out of the way to get past the logs. The limb was about one foot above the water and attached to a log on the bank on that side. The logs from the opposite bank came out and almost touched the limb sticking out. On the way down the creek, I saw a squirrel run across the logs and hop on the limb, then scamper up the bank. On my way out, I had to push the limb which rolled the log over enough to let the boat squeeze through. It wasn’t much of a problem coming down. I was fixing to find out how easy it’d be going back.

  Just grab the limb, roll the log, squeeze the boat back through the opening. Easy! Well, that was my plan. As I grabbed the limb, I pulled it to roll the log and was pleased that the log, partially in the water and on the bank, rolled so easily. With the paddle in my other hand, I grabbed the logs with the paddle to pull the boat through the opening. Everything was working great, until I got about half way through the logs. When I let go of the limb, the boat swung around and hit the log, causing it to roll back upright and the limb rested on the top edge of the boat which stopped me dead still. The boat was pinned under the limb about in the middle of the boat. Now, I’m in a little dilemma. I thought a few seconds about what to do. Just move to the middle….. WHAT’S THAT SOUND?

  I looked back to the other side of the creek. I heard all the night sounds that returned not long after the panther attack and thought it was comforting to hear them again. But now, this wasn’t a night sound. I couldn’t make out the sound exactly. I didn’t know what it was. My computer brain started searching at light speed, since another injection of adrenaline spun me up again. I saw something black coming toward the log jam. Of course, everything was black in that darkness. But because it was moving toward the log jam, I made out that it was some kind of animal. About the size of a ‘coon. At first, that’s what I thought it was. But the sound was so different. I never heard a ‘coon make that sound before. I felt my panic starting again. It was a “snapping, or biting” sound.

  Instantly, I thought of how dogs will snap their jaws together when they’re scared. Bears do the same thing. Too small for a dog size animal! Hog!, they snap their jaws when they’re scared! No! too small for that! It was getting closer and I was still stuck in the logs.

  “THINK! DO SOMETHING! NOW!” Yep, there was that familiar inner voice screaming the same things again. My mind went into overdrive! Do I try to get unstuck from the logs? Do I try to scare away the animal? Do I fight it with the paddle and risk breaking it? Have I got time to get to the light? Why is this happening to me? How much further do I have to go? It was STILL COMING! What is that sound? ‘Possums snap their jaws when you corner them, but they’re never that aggressive. This animal was still coming toward the log jam. It was hesitating a little. It approached some, then stopped and snapped it’s jaws, approach a little more, and snap again.

  This seemed to go on for hours, while my mind raced trying to figure out if I needed to try to scare it away or defend myself? It was obvious it intended to cross the logs, and I was in it’s way. It moved closer, stopped again, and snapped. I watched it get closer and closer to the logs and I still didn’t have a plan. I half-way wanted to scare it off, but it seemed to not be that scared of me already. And, if it was already that brave, what would it do if I tried to scare it? Would it attack me? No!, it’s too little! SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, the quick snaps sounded like something I’d heard before, but couldn’t place the sound. Somewhere in the “hours” that it approached, I turned around and instinctively got into a fighting position. Something deep inside me told me I knew this sound. My mind raced. Too many questions!

  “THINK! DO SOMETHING! NOW!” Boy, that inner voice was killing me. The “something” was at the logs now and looked like it wanted to come across. I couldn’t hear any more night sounds. Had they all quit? Did the night sounds know something I didn’t know? Did the night sounds stop because they knew something was fixing to happen? Or, was it simply that my mind was too full of lightning thoughts to hear the night sounds? My ears were totally focused on the snapping and biting sound. My eyes were watching it as intently as a hawk watches the mouse before it strikes.

  Pow! Like a lightning bolt out of nowhere, I recognized the sound. It had to be a BADGER! I’d heard it before! Many times! On TV and in Oklahoma once. Wait a minute! Texas don’t have badgers, does it? Well, Oklahoma has them, why not Texas? Either way, I wasn’t going to chance it.

  My mind replayed the memory in “fast forward.“ I was pheasant hunting with several friends in Oklahoma one time and we came upon a badger in a hole. It was digging the hole and had it’s back to us when we walked up on it. When it came up to throw away some dirt, it saw us and immediately
flipped around and backed up into the hole and started snapping it’s teeth. It darted out at each of us a couple feet snapping, then darted back toward the hole. I remember the long claws on it’s front feet. It had a mouth full of teeth too. From wildlife shows on TV, I’d seen them many times snapping their mouths. Their fights were ferocious. I know we gave that one in Oklahoma plenty of room. One of the guys thought he’d dart in at the badger to see if it was scared. That was a mistake. When he darted in, the badger darted out and in an instant it ripped his pants leg and cut deep grooves in his boot. The guy didn’t think that was so funny either. We left that thing alone and moved on.

  Now, what was I going to do? I didn’t want to tangle with the badger, especially at night. I was pretty sure it could see better than I could. About the time it hit the end of the log heading toward the boat, I went into action. I reached down with my hand and grabbed the log and manually pulled the boat through the jam. The limb on top of the boat made a loud screeching sound, but I didn’t care. I glanced back at the badger and noticed it stopped on the log about mid way. The screeching on the boat made it jumped back to the bank line and I heard the snapping again. I figured it was mad by now, so with all my might, I shoved off the log jam and the boat screeched free of the limb. About as quick as the boat was free, I slapped the electric motor down and had it on speed four, all at the same time. As the boat lurched forward, I found myself helping the motor with the paddle.

  Still focused on the badger, I was concerned that it might try to run down the log and jump in the boat as I pulled away. Even on fourth speed, I seemed to be suspended, momentarily, in time. Am I even moving? Am I still hung up on something? Seemed like I couldn’t get moving fast enough for me. I thrashed the water to get away from the jam and noticed the log on the bank with the limb, rolled back into position. Almost as if it was waiting for the limb to right itself, the badger scampered down the log and jumped on the limb, disappearing up the bank.

  By then, the boat must’ve been ten to twelve feet away, and I was confident it couldn’t jump that far. I jumped into the middle section of the boat to get the light and check it out, but just before I turned it on, I thought about my night vision. I didn’t want to ruin that. Besides, I figured I wouldn’t be able to see the badger now, anyway.

  After a few seconds, I noticed I was still moving quite fast and still in fourth speed. The loud hum really sounded good though. I sat back down in the seat and faced forward again. With the log jam behind me, I was glad that was over. How much more of this night can I take? When will this nightmare be over? All I could think about now was getting to the truck and getting out of here. I turned around to put the paddle down and reached back up front to turn the motor back down to speed two.

  About that time, OOOUCH! OOOUCH! What’s this, I’m getting STUNG, all over! What in the world has happened now? Did I run into a WASP NEST? How can this be?

  The momentum of the boat seemed to take me straight into the thick of the wasps. They must be on a limb overhanging the water like I saw many times in the Louisiana lakes. I was trying to reach the motor to turn it off, and fighting the wasps which I couldn’t see. They were tearing me up! I was slapping at them and they were clawing me back. They were tearing my shirt!

  Wait a minute! My mind was full tilt again. This didn’t make sense and my mind was spinning too fast to figure this out. The clawing was getting worse and I couldn’t imagine what was doing this. Wasps don’t claw! I saw the reflection in the channel from the log jam and knew I was in the channel, but didn’t remember how I came down this way without running into these wasps. Even though I started fighting back at my unknown enemy, and felt that I was losing by all the stinging and clawing. I guess my mind was used to lightning fast thinking and ,somehow, I figured out what my enemy was.

  Yes, Saw Vines! I’d taken a wrong turn up the cut-off I thought about earlier. I reached down somehow and turned the motor off, and with the vines wrapped all around me, it stopped my forward movement. Of course, that meant I had the saw briers sticking me big time and was stopped in the middle of the vines. They had me wrapped up good, and ripped my shirt a little. I was mad at myself for not paying more attention to where I was going. However, I was so glad to get away from the badger. I guess you could say, I was somewhat distracted.

  So, after calming down my super sensitive panic mode, I managed to untangle myself from the saw vines and limbs and get turned around again to get out of the cut-off. I got back to the main channel and headed on down the creek, welcoming the steady hum of speed two on the motor. However, I noticed there was a slight change in the tone. An indication that the battery was starting to weaken. After a little while, the night sounds were back again and I was moving pretty smoothly. I started recognizing a few trees and overhanging limbs and was thankful that I was finally getting closer to the truck. The channel was widening a little and I knew by recognizing some of the trees and sandbars that I wasn’t too far from the truck. I was going down a fairly long straight stretch and the bank line was somewhat steeper in this section. I was heading straight west and the night glow from the moon gave off good reflections.

  I even saw the stumps that lined the bank standing out as little black bumps in the water. I noticed that even though the night air was cool, every now and then, I went through a noticeable “warm” spot. My mind wandered to those warm spots and replayed the scenes in my mind. I’d been through those type of spots many times on a lake. It was quite common to be going across a lake late in the afternoon and go through several warm and cool spots while driving to the boat ramp. Strange that I found that a little surprising in the creek.

  After a few minutes of travel, I recognized one little finger that led to a little ravine. The water coursing down the hillside in the woods washed out a furrow in the ground leading to the little finger. It was lined with weeds and had a big limb underwater with just a few twigs sticking up. I knew I’d catch a bass there and stopped to fish that area this afternoon. Sure enough, I caught one, and boy did it jump. It was only about one to two pounds, but it sure pulled hard. It jumped four times trying to free itself from the lure, plus, it pulled so hard it surprised me. I guessed that swimming in the current of the creek made it stronger than others for it’s size. I caught a few bluegills there also. It was a good fishing spot and I replayed the fight with the bass in my mind as I passed the finger. I’d certainly marked that spot for the next........WHAT’S THAT MOVING IN THE WATER?

  Up ahead, there were two long bodies parting the water as they swam. I saw that one was slightly ahead of the other and on the other side of the channel. In their present positions, I’d have to go right between them. Something told me I didn’t want to do that. They swam slowly, but strongly. Their reflections were clear enough in the water. I saw part of it’s body sticking out of the water, then a break in the body, then another part sticking up in the water, followed by a long wake. I slowed the motor to first speed while my mind kicked into high speed. With my mind racing again wondering what these might be, all of a sudden, what looked like a stump in the middle of the channel appeared. That threw my brain a twist. Stumps don’t just suddenly appear! I quickly tried to turn the motor to miss this stump, but knew I was going to hit it. What was happening? How can a stump just appear in the middle of the channel? I was frozen again, helpless in thought with my mind racing.

  POW! SPLASH! BAM! I hit the stump with the motor. I flipped the motor off. The sudden noise knocked all thoughts from my mind for an instant. POW! POW! SPLASH! SPLASH! went the other two in from of me. I glanced up to see the big wake of their splashes in the reflected light. Water splashed on me as the “STUMP” VISCOUSLY ATTACKED the front of the boat! BAM! BAM! just a few inches from me.

  Instinctively, I jumped backwards from the noise. Lightning thoughts flashed through my mind again. It was like slow motion as I fell backwards in the boat. I was thankful I didn’t go to either side or I would’ve fell completely out of the boat. There was o
nly one thing I could think of that would make such a splash and attack the boat at the same time. My mind was pretty clear on this one. I was in the middle of ALLIGATORS!

  I was laying down on my back in the center section of the boat. I was frantically searching for the light while trying to keep an eye on the alligators. There was another one, “RIGHT BY THE BOAT!” my inner voice yelled.

  POW! ....SPLASH! ..... BAM! Water splashed on me again. I couldn’t... “FIND THE LIGHT,…” my inner voice screamed! My mind exploded. I was beyond panic. I grabbed the paddle and hit at the alligator. POW!......SPLASH! POW!....SPLASH! the two others sounded off again.

  In between the loud pops and splashes, I heard my heart pounding like it was in my ears. I jumped up slinging the paddle....“YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK THE PADDLE!,” my inner voice screamed, but I didn’t care.

  This was survival! All I could think about was the thousands of scenes I’d watched of alligators eating animals. Sinking their teeth into flesh with their powerful jaws and spinning around to tear chunks out of their victims. I could visualize them doing me that way. The boat was rocking bad, and I was doing all I could to stay in the boat. I fought off the urge to just take off trying to run on the water. Fear gripped my mind and only one priority flashed in big bright letters in my head. IF YOU FALL OUT OF THE BOAT, YOU’RE DEAD!

  I pictured the alligators grabbing me and, still alive, dragging me underwater and waiting for me to drown. I had to get away from these things and my survival mode took over. I wanted to run, then realizing I better not get out of the boat, I wanted to fight with the only weapon I had—the paddle. I slapped at them and splashed the water. In the middle of the chaos, somehow, I decided to get the motor going again. I jumped up front and ripped the motor to fourth speed. The boat jumped forward and for a few seconds there was nothing in the reflected water ahead. I must’ve looked like George Washington standing in the front of the boat searching and holding the paddle.

  Scanning all around with the paddle in my hand, I saw another one matching the speed of the boat about even with the middle of the boat. I figured I couldn’t outrun them so what could I do? My mind raced again. Out of pure survival thinking, although not very logical, I quickly turned the motor off and dove toward the middle of the boat swinging the paddle to hit the one beside the boat.

  POW!.. ..SPLASH! I guess we both made big splash at the same time. I almost fell out of the boat, but I think I hit that one with the side of the paddle. Thank God, it didn’t break. Almost broke my arm, and two of my fishing rods, plus, woke up my aching rib. Aw man!, felt like I wet my pants again. No, wait a minute, getting back up, I saw the minnow bucket knocked over again. Well, that’s my story. I got up and looked around just a few seconds and hopped back up front to start the motor again. The boat had drifted sideways, but speed four fixed that quickly as I sped away.

  The night was totally silent again. All I heard was the pounding of my heart in my head, and boy, was it fast! I didn’t see any more around, and don’t know what happened to them. I guess they had a nest somewhere in the weeds on the bank and I just got too close to them. Don’t know why I didn’t see them during the daytime. Guess they were on the bank in the weeds. My rib was aching again.

  I’d heard about alligators spreading further and further up into Texas. I figured this creek was an ideal location for them to raise their young. Just a couple weeks ago, the news had a story about one in north Dallas that was caught and transplanted. I got maybe fifty or more yards from the attack site and turned the motor off. I am going to FIND THAT LIGHT and use it! I don’t care what the inner voice said. That did it for me! I figure the light will last until I get to the truck since I knew I was much closer. Besides, I was going to use the light until it died and if I wasn’t at the truck, it’d be no worse than what I’m doing now.

  I got in the middle of the boat and searched around until I found the light. Turning it on, seemed like the whole world lit up. What a comfort that was! I stood up and shined it back toward the attack site, but couldn’t see anything. Looking all around me, I couldn’t see any others in the water anywhere. I refilled the minnow bucket and started the motor again.

  The light was almost warm. It made a huge difference in the creek, being able to see. The creek was noticeably wider now and I knew I wasn’t far from the truck because I’d picked up a floater in the weeds close to here. With the light on, and knowing I wasn’t far from the truck, I turned the motor on fourth speed to hurry up and get out of this place. After a few minutes, I noticed the night sounds returned and my heart moved back to my chest. The light made a world of difference in the creek. I swiftly moved up the creek. I picked up the eyes of a ‘coon going along the bank line and watched it scamper up the bank as I got closer and the light beam hit it. I noticed the moon was gone and, evidently, I had a low cloud cover. Great, I thought, that’s all I need now is to get rained on.

  I moved steadily and quickly up the creek now on speed four. I saw some ‘possums and several more ‘coons along the creek banks. Every now and then, a shad jumped in the light beam. The creek didn’t look so hostile now with the light on.