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Try a Little Kindness: The Geezer and The Toad
Submitted by Arnold and Les Shelton

July/August 1994

Arnold Shelton of Chino Valley, Arizona, was having dinner with his brother Les Shelton of Flagstaff, Arizona, after an All Star Draw Tournament on Arizona's Lake Alamo.  The Sheltons had decided to stay overnight in order to compare notes and pre-fish in preparation for a team tourney the following weekend.  Relaxing in a booth at the only lakeside café, the Sheltons couldn't help but overhear a heated conversation at a nearby table. A couple of senior citizen locals were railing about the low-life bass fishermen that lacked any consideration for their fellowman and were a threat to anyone unfortunate to be sharing a piece of water with them.  In a word, these gentlemen were "used up" as far as bass fishermen were concerned.

When there was a break in the conversation, one of the old geezers turned in the Shelton's direction and fixed them with an accusing stare.  "Are you some of them damned bass fishermen?"  Choking back the urge to retaliate, Les Shelton replied that they were bass fishermen but not the type that the gentlemen had been exposed to.  He went on to explain that a few bad actors within the tournament ranks give all bass fishermen a black eye.  Shelton continued.  "Sir, I assure you that we are not all alike, and when someone breaks safety rules or just fails to be considerate to a fellow boater, it hurts all of us.  What I'd like to ask of you is that you not judge bass fishermen based on the actions of one or two jerks."

The old man just stared at the two brothers for several long seconds before replying, "I see you boys dobbing those plastic worms in the trees and pulling out nice bass.  I've tried that, but it just doesn't work for me, for one thing, the worm keeps sliding down on the hook."

A slow smile spread over Les Shelton's face as he took over, now on familiar grounds.  In under five minutes he had the old boys out at his boat and was holding a mini-seminar on worm fishing and the use of an offset shank worm hook.  The old boys couldn't believe the colors of the worms Shelton was showing them.  They'd never seen the like.  Before they parted company, Shelton had made them a gift of some Yamamoto worms and offset shank Owner hooks.  There were handshakes all around as the old men departed with a new appreciation for bass fishermen. 

As Les was covering his boat, the most vocal of the oldsters returned to explain, "I've lived here all my life; I was here when they built this dam. I watched them quarry the stone for the dam.  I'm mainly a troller and my most productive spot is that old rock quarry that's flooded now.  I think the biggest bass in this lake is in that quarry hole.  I've had that fish on so many times I've lost count.  He must have ten RAT-L-TRAPS in his face."

At that, the old gentleman squatted there in the dirt lot and drew Les a map.  Using his gnarled finger he showed Shelton exactly where that big fish liked to hold.  "You go to this spot and catch that fish in your tournament, you'll know how to get him out of there."

Before sunup the next morning, Les and Arnold were planning their strategy over steaming cups of coffee.  They decided that there was plenty of time to check each other's water, first things first, they were going straight to the old man's quarry hole.  Following the instructions that he had received in the dirt lot, Les eased the boat into the quarry area.  As he lowered the trolling motor Arnold made the first cast of the day with a five-inch Hula Grub.  As the bait sank, Arnold felt the telltale tic of the line and set the hook.  All Hell broke loose.  The fish made several strong runs, trying all the tricks that had served him so well in the past but on this day, the victor was Arnold Shelton.

It was only minutes before the boat was sliding back on the trailer and the sun had only begun to rise when the brothers were at the local market to get a certified weight on their big fish.  After a fast trip to the scales, the 7 lb. 12 oz. beauty was back in the livewell and headed back to the quarry hole.  Arnold and Les could only chuckle as they released the battle-scarred veteran.  Just wait 'til next Saturday.

I'm not sure what makes up a perfect story. Do our buddies Arnold and Les return the following Saturday to win the tournament with a near eight pound kicker or is that fish laying up in that quarry hole getting fatter?  In truth, the fish won round two with the Shelton brothers.  They never did get that toad to bite but still posted a respectable finish.

What they did win was the friendship of an old-timer and the trophy they carry is the memory of a huge fish who's waiting in the quarry hole. There's always next time.

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