04-30-2004, 04:01 AM
[#990000]![[Image: Grappling.jpg]](http://www.tnwildside.org/Images/Stories/Grappling.jpg)
[/#990000]
Folks, we’ve been around long enough to know that some people will do all kinds of things for a little excitement. Whether it’s skydiving, bungee jumping, scaling mountains, or anything else with an element of risk, some of us humans seem to thrive on the joy of living life to the extreme.
We can understand the thrill of the rushing air once you jump out of that plane, or the sense of accomplishment when you reach the highest peak, but when it comes to grappling, we stop and ask ourselves: How would we feel sticking our hand underwater, through a submerged log or under a rock, not knowing what we will touch or how it will react?
Call them specialists, call them crazy, or call them fishermen of a different breed, but grapplers definitely have a special relationship with their intended catch: catfish. We’ve heard stories of people catching hundreds of pounds of the whiskered whoppers by submerging, feeling around, and surfacing with their supper in their arms. Definitely not for the faint of heart.
It's not a sport for the faint of heart.
Nothing gets the old ticker pumping like reaching under submerged rocks and into holes in the river bank hoping to feel something -- like a big fish -- snap shut on your hand.
"When they rotate to bite you, they will shake the whole bank," Wilson Countian Jim York said enthusiastically. "You stick your hand in there, and they'll mark you up."
York has the marks to prove it after his last "grappling" outing found a 63-pound flathead catfish in the Cumberland River.
Grappling -- in some places the practice is called "noodling" -- dates back to prehistoric times, when man lacked fancy fishing equipment to land a meal. Early anglers used their fingers as bait, reaching under objects in the water to simply grab fish, turtles or anything else that could be cooked.
Catfish hole up to spawn in late May through early July. Hidden away, a catfish protects its fishy nest with the good humor of a pit bull with pups.
Many modern grapplers use gloves and, if necessary, large hooks to snag fish and pull them out. But it still involves blindly sticking a hand in a dark hole hoping to touch something big enough to swallow an arm.
Of course, the first grapplers had an excuse -- hunger. York and his partner, Crockett Carr of Lebanon, said grappling satisfies another kind of hunger for them.
"I think there is satisfaction in knowing you can do that," York said. "We can go out and we can create a meal."
York's flathead will produce more than a few meals when cleaned and dressed. York estimates that in 15 years of grappling he has landed -- the hard way -- 15,000 pounds of fish.
Grappling can be exciting but also dangerous. Occasionally, an unlucky grappler finds the wrong end of a snapping turtle and goes home one finger short. There have also been rare cases when grapplers drowned after going underwater to get at a large fish that wouldn't come out.
Carr will slip his hand into dark places with the best of them, but he is more likely to defer to York, who is always ready to go in head first if necessary to dislodge a big fish.
"I can't say I'd do it if he wasn't along," Carr admitted. "He's always been crazier than me. I'm his assistant. I hand him things."
It took the both of them to get this big flathead out, but it was touch and go. At one point, York suggested to Carr that he let go.
"I told him I couldn't," Carr recalled. "I said I don't have him. He has me."
Before the struggle was over, Carr had one less glove. The fish swallowed it.
Grappling might be considered a young man's sport, but there may not be many young men taking it up. Carr is 59 and York is 60.
York said his two sons have tried it but find other less dangerous ways to get their hearts racing.
"They've caught 'em, but they don't have the passion."
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[/#990000] Folks, we’ve been around long enough to know that some people will do all kinds of things for a little excitement. Whether it’s skydiving, bungee jumping, scaling mountains, or anything else with an element of risk, some of us humans seem to thrive on the joy of living life to the extreme.
We can understand the thrill of the rushing air once you jump out of that plane, or the sense of accomplishment when you reach the highest peak, but when it comes to grappling, we stop and ask ourselves: How would we feel sticking our hand underwater, through a submerged log or under a rock, not knowing what we will touch or how it will react?
Call them specialists, call them crazy, or call them fishermen of a different breed, but grapplers definitely have a special relationship with their intended catch: catfish. We’ve heard stories of people catching hundreds of pounds of the whiskered whoppers by submerging, feeling around, and surfacing with their supper in their arms. Definitely not for the faint of heart.
It's not a sport for the faint of heart.
Nothing gets the old ticker pumping like reaching under submerged rocks and into holes in the river bank hoping to feel something -- like a big fish -- snap shut on your hand.
"When they rotate to bite you, they will shake the whole bank," Wilson Countian Jim York said enthusiastically. "You stick your hand in there, and they'll mark you up."
York has the marks to prove it after his last "grappling" outing found a 63-pound flathead catfish in the Cumberland River.
Grappling -- in some places the practice is called "noodling" -- dates back to prehistoric times, when man lacked fancy fishing equipment to land a meal. Early anglers used their fingers as bait, reaching under objects in the water to simply grab fish, turtles or anything else that could be cooked.
Catfish hole up to spawn in late May through early July. Hidden away, a catfish protects its fishy nest with the good humor of a pit bull with pups.
Many modern grapplers use gloves and, if necessary, large hooks to snag fish and pull them out. But it still involves blindly sticking a hand in a dark hole hoping to touch something big enough to swallow an arm.
Of course, the first grapplers had an excuse -- hunger. York and his partner, Crockett Carr of Lebanon, said grappling satisfies another kind of hunger for them.
"I think there is satisfaction in knowing you can do that," York said. "We can go out and we can create a meal."
York's flathead will produce more than a few meals when cleaned and dressed. York estimates that in 15 years of grappling he has landed -- the hard way -- 15,000 pounds of fish.
Grappling can be exciting but also dangerous. Occasionally, an unlucky grappler finds the wrong end of a snapping turtle and goes home one finger short. There have also been rare cases when grapplers drowned after going underwater to get at a large fish that wouldn't come out.
Carr will slip his hand into dark places with the best of them, but he is more likely to defer to York, who is always ready to go in head first if necessary to dislodge a big fish.
"I can't say I'd do it if he wasn't along," Carr admitted. "He's always been crazier than me. I'm his assistant. I hand him things."
It took the both of them to get this big flathead out, but it was touch and go. At one point, York suggested to Carr that he let go.
"I told him I couldn't," Carr recalled. "I said I don't have him. He has me."
Before the struggle was over, Carr had one less glove. The fish swallowed it.
Grappling might be considered a young man's sport, but there may not be many young men taking it up. Carr is 59 and York is 60.
York said his two sons have tried it but find other less dangerous ways to get their hearts racing.
"They've caught 'em, but they don't have the passion."
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