Gar-gantuan feat at Lake Corpus Christi

[jnelsoninjax]

MATHIS ? It was a Saturday morning Brent Crawford really didn't intend to spend fishing.

He had work to do.

This was a day to sweat, while taking advantage of low water at his Lake Corpus Christi home. Crawford and his neighbor Jim Costlow had a pier to build.

But a second neighbor had other ideas. Damon Carrell planned to take advantage of Crawford's good nature and his extensive insight on fishing his home waters. Carrell stopped by for advice and possibly more.

Crawford gets that a lot. And generally he's happy to help.

Crawford has been bow fishing since he was a kid growing up on the Nueces River. And he's lived on the lake with his wife, Olivia, for 20 years.

Rather than offering to accompany Carrell, Crawford agreed to meet up later with his friend in need. He sent the eager angler on his way, alone but armed with directions to a nearby spot on the lake to try first.

Not long afterward Carrell returned with a remarkable report. Within about 100 yards the neighbor had discovered a commotion in the brown water of a shallow canal connecting the lake to Crawford's property.

From experience, Crawford suspected the neighbor had found a school of grass carp, an invasive species of fish that often excites novice anglers who see them. Typically grass carp refuse most lures or baits on a hook. But they can be fun to shoot with an arrow.

The neighbor said no. These were not carp. The fish he found were as long as a car.

"Really?" Crawford thought, gazing back at his unfinished pier. He looked at Jim, then shot a curious glance down the canal. At that moment, Jim probably knew it would be useless to try to talk Crawford out of taking a fishing break.

As expected Crawford told Jim he had to go see.

So he grabbed his trusty recurve fishing bow and walked toward the spot. When he got close the broad scaly back of a large fish breached the canal's chocolate surface. The neighbor had not exaggerated. This gar indeed was nearly as long as a small car.

"Oh goodness," Crawford said while recounting the event. "That fish right there was worth chasing."

It was a large female alligator gar with about five males swimming with it, each four to six feet long.

Crawford speculated that a recent rise in the lake had sparked spawning behavior in some of the reservoir's largest inhabitants. Before the rain came the canal was nearly dry.

The canal is about 30 feet wide, which put the prehistoric fish within bow range of the bank. But choosing the right shot opportunity on an elusive gar of a lifetime can be tricky. One shot might be all he would get. An errant arrow often can spook fish to swim well out of range.

The aquatic archer followed the churning school from the bank for about 100 yards, biding his time and calculating his strategy. He had plenty of time to think. And in Crawford's imagination his aim was true, proving once again the reliability of an old bow he had modified for fishing based on a design from his high school days.

"I could see her the whole time," Crawford said. "But it was probably 45 minutes to an hour before I got my chance."

After a while, Carrell, who had directed Crawford to the spot, lost interest and left.

Only Crawford's leopard Catahoula named Bleux was there to witness the moment when he seized an opportunity at glory. He drew back on the 45-pound bowstring and released. The arrow flew. The fish reacted violently, throwing mud and water far above the surface. And then it raced in the opposite direction toward the lake.

"I thought I'd missed," Crawford said, not seeing the usual blur of line escaping the reel attached to his bow. Somehow a length of cord had fallen from the spool unexpectedly. Crawford looked down to see a tangle of dingy white line at his feet.

That's not good.

He panicked and reached for the nylon cord. Maybe it was unattached. Without thinking Crawford wrapped the limp cord once around his fist as the line began to tighten.

That's not good.

Before Crawford could react the fish had taken up the slack. Anyone who has spent much time water skiing knows what happened next. The line straightened with a snap. The pull knocked Crawford off his feet and into the canal more or less headfirst.

Bleux somehow knew what to do. Crawford's loyal fishing partner clamped down on the cuff of his jeans and planted his paws in a vain attempt to keep his master from being dragged farther into the canal, cellphone, boots and all.

More than once, Bleux's jaws grabbed more than denim.

By now Crawford had freed his hand from the line and had begun trying to recoup his composure. Soon the bedraggled archer was upright, standing knee-deep in the canal desperately gripping the bow that still was attached tenuously to a giant fish.

"At that point I was just trying to keep my feet on the ground," Crawford said. "There was no doubt who was in control and it wasn't me. It was a tug of war now."

Bleux had abandoned the battle but not Crawford's side.

The pair stood together and watched the distance grow between fish and fisherman. But the gar was losing speed and energy. Good thing, because Crawford's reel, which holds about 200 feet of trotline cord, was nearly empty. It wasn't long before Crawford turned the powerful fish around, about 45 minutes after his arrow hit home.

With the fish getting closer, Crawford realized his success had led to another problem.

Jim was 150 yards away still working on the pier, completely oblivious to all of this. Crawford needed more help than ol' Bleux could provide.

On a prayer he reached for his cellphone, which was hanging from his belt wrapped in a waterproof case his wife had had the insight to give to her sometimes careless husband.

Crawford was completely soaked and dripping in a foot of water, nearly as exhausted as the toothy monster now within reach. Crawford grabbed the gar by the gills and maneuvered it toward the bank, so any thrust of its tail would push it toward land. The gar was obviously too heavy and too slippery for a man to lift.

So Crawford sat down. Not on the bank but on the fish. Straddling his catch he called for help. Remarkably the phone worked.

"I told Jim I needed him right now," Crawford said. "I keep a pistol in my four-wheeler and I asked him to bring it."

He came immediately.

"Pow!," Crawford said.

The two men used a rope attached to Jim's Polaris to drag the fish to the house. Even together the two men could not lift the fish. Jim offered a forklift from his garage, which was just the tool they needed to hang the catch for photos and to weigh it.

But their scale's 300-pound capacity was inadequate. The fish measured 8 feet 2 inches. And it bottomed out the scale in resounding fashion.

The actual weight, which was more than a few stones greater than 300 pounds, will never be known.

Crawford and Costlow filleted the fish, unaware the Texas state bow fishing record for alligator gar is 290 pounds. The overall state record is 302 pounds, caught in 1953 not far from Crawford's boyhood home on the Nueces River. It was eight inches shorter than Crawford's gar.

Regrets? What do you think?

Source

[Hum]

Holy caveman ! :woot:

[sanctified Veteran]

is it edible?

[Hum]

^ Just add ketchup :laugh:

[Growled Member]

That's one more big fish. Wow!