On the hookset, I knew the bass at the other end was big. It was the first cast of the night, and by the time I steadied myself on the stern of my brother’s boat, the line was tight and the largemouth ...
Waist-deep in a cypress swamp is not an ideal place for second-guessing. Nor, at least for most sober people, is it the place to dangle one’s arm into murky holes and hope something large inside takes ...
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