Fishing with a master, Bob Dutcher ~ October 15, 1998

David Heiller

Bob Dutcher sat in his boat. I couldn’t see him. It was still dark, although the stars were starting to disappear.

“Hi, Bob,” I called out. I knew he was there, because his truck was sitting by the road, and he said he’d be there at 6 a.m., and Bob isn’t late, at least when it comes to fishing.

“Hi, Dave,” Bob’s voice answered.

I felt my way down the bank, to where I could make out the boat and Dutcher, and crawled in.

“Isn’t this a little early to be fishing?” I asked as Bob rowed us onto Mud Lake. It was 6 a.m.

Bob assured me that it was NOT too early to go fishing. It’s never too early for Bob Dutcher, Askov, Minnesota, to start fishing. Why, bass bite all night. So do walleyes. And you never know when you’ll catch a northern. They are early risers, like Bob.

We each put a frog on a hook and started casting toward the lily pads off to our left. Bob worked the oars expertly, keeping us just the right distance from the weeds.

Day broke fast and clear. It was a gorgeous morning. I had asked Bob to take me bass fishing. He likes to use frogs, and I have an unlimited supply of frogs at the pond at our house. So I brought the frogs and he brought the rest, including the expertise.

That became obvious very quickly. “There’s one,” he said, letting his line stop for a few seconds. I couldn’t see any difference in his line. He set the hook. The line strained. A good fighter, but not good enough. Bob reeled in steadily, brought the fish to the side of the boat, and lifted it out. It was a nice bass. About a pound and a half, he guessed. He weighed it on his electronic scale. One pound, nine ounces.

Bob put the fish back into the water and let it slip away. He’s strictly catch-and-release when it comes to bass.

Bob caught another bass, almost identical to the first. Then another. Then a two-and-a-half pounder.

I was fishing just like him, or so it seemed. But I wasn’t feeling the fish like he did. I felt a few bites, but when I set the hook, the fish wouldn’t stay on.

One time I thought I felt a fish gnawing my frog, so I set the hook hard—like Bob does—and the frog came shooting out of the water right at us. Luckily it missed us. I don’t know who was more startled, the frog or Bob.

He chuckled. “You’ve got to make sure the fish is on before you set the hook,” he said. Oh. Right. Good point.

Bob said he hoped I wasn’t jinxed, like George Frederiksen of Askov. Bob said George has notoriously bad luck, at least when it comes to fishing.

“Come on, Dave, catch one,” Bob said more than once as the morning unfolded. I knew how he felt. I always like my guests to catch fish and have fun.

But it didn’t bother me too much, not catching fish. I was having too much fun watching Bob fish. He seemed to do everything right.

I especially liked the way he released the fish. Try letting a 3-1/2 pound bass go some time. Bob caught one that size. It was a beauty. We admired it for a few seconds, Then Bob put it in the water. It didn’t respond, so Bob put it on a stringer.

After about five minutes, the fish started thrashing, so Bob took it off the stringer and let it swim away. Not everyone—including me—could have done that. My pride and appetite get, in the way.

Listening to Bob talk about fishing was fun too. He told me about some of his favorite lakes how he fishes them, what baits he uses. I felt like putting down my fishing pole and picking up a notebook. A lot of fishermen won’t share that information. But Bob isn’t like that. He likes to see people have fun. That’s why he wanted me to catch a fish.

David didn't get skunked this time! 
He didn't catch-and-release, either!

We talked about other things too, like our families, our interests. Good old small talk, the kind that fishing is famous for.

We watched many flocks of Canada geese fly over us. A blue heron took off from a bay. A beaver swam from shore. The sun shined through a clean sky. Wow, what a beautiful September morning. There was no better place to be than on that lake.

We finished fishing at about 10:30 a.m. We shook hands and Bob said once again that he wished I had caught one. I said it didn’t matter, and I meant it. The worst day of fishing is still better than the best day at the office.

I went back to Mud Lake the next week with my sister-in-law. This time she got skunked. I wish she would have caught one!

I caught a 3-1/4 pound bass. I called Bob that night to tell him. I didn’t want him to think I was totally jinxed.

I could tell he had been sleeping when I called. He had that groggy voice. But that didn’t bother me. After all, he had gotten me out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to go fishing. The least I could do return was wake him up at 9:30 p.m.

But Dutcher didn’t complain. I knew he wouldn’t. He was glad to hear I had finally caught a fish. He’s a fisherman, after all.