David Heiller
I went to buy minnows on Sunday at Tri-State Bait and Tackle in La Crescent. As I was plunking down my $1.60, I asked the owner, Bob Veglahn, how the crappies were biting.
“Great if you can find them.”
I started to laugh, but stopped just in time. Bob wasn’t joking.
The fish were biting fine. You just had to find them.
Wow. It was a classic bait shop owner statement.
I’m not criticizing Bob, or making fun of him. Bait shop owners have a way with words that rival Socrates, and I have great respect for that.
Think about what Bob said. He didn’t say the fish weren’t biting. I have never heard a bait shop owner say that. He didn’t say they were biting great, because that would be a lie, and good bait shop owners don’t lie. They want to maintain their credibility so that that they can sell you more minnows.
What he said was the perfect statement. The fish were biting great. Hey that’s good news! You’ve just got to find them. Hey, I can do that. It was a pep talk and an optimistic forecast all rolled into six little words. Poetry.
I read another bit of bait shop wisdom a couple months ago in The La Crosse Tribune. The writer had his weekly fishing update in which he calls local outdoor store owners. The fishing was very slow, but the bait shop owner being interviewed said, “The fish are on the verge of biting.”
Brilliant! Everybody knew the fishing was bad, but rather than say that, this guy coaxed up our hopes, like Bob had. The football coach came out. “They’re on the verge of biting. Hope springs eternal. Give me a dozen minnows and make it snappy!”
Just once before I die, I would like to hear a bait shop owner say this: “Fishing is lousy. Nobody’s catching anything. You don’t have a chance of getting anything tonight. You won’t get anything more than a mosquito bite. Don’t bother going out. And there’s no need to buy those minnows either.” But I bet I never hear those words.
Bait shop owners are good salesmen too. They could sell sweet corn to Dean Myhre. It’s a subtle art, and I’ve learned to put up my guard when I enter bait shops now. I think to myself, “I’m not going to buy anything, I’m not going to buy anything.”
I remember one time when I was younger, going fishing with a buddy from Camp Courage. I went into a bait shop by my friend’s cabin. A kindly old lady stood behind the counter. She engaged me in conversation, mentioned how the pike were biting, especially on the lake we were going to. Why, someone had pulled a 12 pounder out just last week. “Have you ever seen this Pike Jaw Spreader?” she asked. She held out a piece of steel with a spring built into the base. You squeezed it together, then when it was released, it would spread open the jaws of a pike so that you could extract the hook without getting raked by those razor sharp pike teeth. It looked like a medieval torture instrument, and it had enough torque to lift a barn off the ground. I pitied any pike that ever had one inserted in its mouth.
When we left the bait shop, I had spent about 1/50th of my summer wages.
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| The internet says this is a pike jaw spreader... I really wouldn't know, since the one David bought was never, ever used... |
“You didn’t buy a Pike Jaw Spreader, did you?” my friend asked.
I had to admit that I was now the proud owner of one.
My friend shook his head and laughed. “She does it every time.”
I never did get the chance to use my Pike Jaw Spreader. It turned into a mass of rust in the bottom of my tackle box and I finally threw it away. But it served as a Bait Shop Lesson that I’ll never forget.
Now it’s time to go fishing, which should be great, if I can just find the darn things.
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