30 years ago I lived in Broken Arrow. I used to fish Bluff all the time. Dinks are the norm, but there are bigger fish to be had. As a matter of fact one of my lifes most memorable fishing trips was there. It was late winter, early spring, I don't remember exactly. I decided to make a night trip to the Bluff accompanied by the smartest dog I've ever had who was a half black lab, half bird dog combo. His name was Captain and he virtually went everywhere I went. We were a team. At the time I had a 12' V bottom with a 9.9 Evinrude pushing her. I would tell Captain to get up front while under full power which would plane the boat out while skimming the water at top speed. Using the reflection on the water as my guide, I strained my eyes to look for the floating mines the creeks would disperse into the channel. It's not fun slamming into one of those big floaters whilst whizzing so fast among the dark waters of the night.

I went into Adams Creek, past the bridge and took the feeder creek to the left. I was in 4.5' of water and had brought a bucket of minnows with me. Using no weight and letting the minnow swim free on the hook about 8" below the bobber, I shortly found myself in a Crappie fishermans heaven as the bobbers would slowly head off and begin to dive as they were being Captained by a Submarine Commander. This all happened under the light of a 12 volt rough service bulb mounted in an aluminum shrouded clamp light. Captain would sit at attention watching the bobbers with as much, or more intensity as I was. He knew what game was being played and loved every minute of it as I did. On my command, he would dive into the water and retrieve the lost bobbers. Some might think this action scared the Crappie out of the area, but it didn't. We would both watch a beaver weave it's way through the brush and my lines and at times slap her tail on the water as if to warn the Crappie that Captain and the Reaper were nigh.


I was at the right place, at the right time as the bobber did their little dance with the sound of freight trains in the distance sounded their warning as they approached another intersection. We ended the night with 20 Crappie which were all over 2lbs each. I lost at least another 15 due to losing the war to the brush they so tightly held to. So much for the "Hold 'em Trilene" thought! I also loved to doodle sock the brush during that period of my life as one could really do well in that little feeder creek.

I took several trips to the same area for years to come and have never been able to replicate that single magic night of Crappie fishing in the area. It did however give me the experience that I've held for years and shared with others just how important it can be to check out every little stick of brush when fishing a creek.

But the best part about my trip, was the memory I have from it, of just how lucky I was in that one silent night of fishing with the best friend I ever had!