Fish Tales
Submitted by Kay Mason <KLMPIANO@aol.com on May 15, 2000

The following incidents took place about 1898 or 1899.  Grandfather was 
married with one or two sons and running the General Store at Horton's Mill.  
The McDavids mentioned were brothers of my grandmother, Eliza Jane McDavid 
[Mason], who was born in Deer Creek, Carter County, Kentucky.  Sam Brickey 
was my grandfather's half-brother.

Pages 173 - 175:

    "While we lived at Horton's store DAN and JIM MCDAVID came to see us 
often - and we went fishing together.  One night in spring we three went 
gigging for fish.  Fish seem to be blinded by a light at night, so we got 
green wood sticks five or six feet long and wrapped the small ends with 
burlap sacks to a good size bundle and wired it fast, filled a gallon jug 
with kerosene, picked up our long handled gig and set out for the long riffle 
a short distance down river.

    Once there we poured kerosene on two bundles and set them afire - and 
waded in three abreast - JIM [MCDAVID] in the middle and DAN [MCDAVID] and I 
- one on each side with a torch.  As we slowly waded upstream our eyes set on 
the riverbed we all got set on the same object and DAN [MCDAVID] and I held 
our breaths, as JIM [MCDAVID] brought the gig closer and closer to the fish 
which lay quite still on the gravelly bottom.

    Just as we were expecting to see the reward for all our preparation and 
labor JIM [MCDAVID] gave a little shove to the gig and like a flash the fish 
was gone - leaving us three standing there with open mouths - JIM [MCDAVID] 
surprised that it was a fish and us that he had not speared it, and all of us 
much disgusted with the whole thing.  We never found another good fish that 
night and a few days afterward one of Bro. SAM's [BRICKEY] boys caught this 
same fish, I am sure, as it had the mark of the gig on its back.  DAN 
[MCDAVID] and I fished together often but we never caught many fish.  
Something always seemed to go wrong.

    Once when the river was low and muddy we set a trot line and got the 
biggest channel cat on it we ever saw but lost it as we tried to land it in 
the boat.  We discovered after it was too late that in some way unknown to us 
our gaff hook had been dulled and so glanced off the slippery skin of the 
fish.

    At another time we decided, as our luck was so poor fishing and gigging, 
we would try another way.  We got a gallon jug and filled it with powder - 
attached a long waterproof fuse - hied ourselves to a deep place near a big 
elm tree near the lower end of Mr. Horton's big bottom field, shed our 
clothes, carefully placed the jug of powder and brought the end of the fuse 
ashore, lit it and hid behind the big elm and waited while the cold wind blew 
and gooseflesh covered our bodies and limbs.

    Little wisps of smoke continued to rise slowly from the water while we 
shivered there picturing the big fish that would rise to be gathered in by 
us.  At last there was a dull muffled sound followed by an upheaval of water 
a foot or two in height and perhaps five feet across - a few waterlogged 
leaves and sticks - then silence and absolutely no fish.

    It may be doubted that we even dared to look at each other while we 
dressed and shamefacedly made our way home.  It was unlawful to kill fish by 
explosives, but we were not afraid - we had not killed any.  

    We felt pretty bad about this till we heard what happened to our friends 
HENRY MCDAVID and GEORGE ADAMS.  They tried the same plan - but they had to 
travel about five miles with their jug and after selecting what was 
considered one of the best holes in the river (The Sammons Hole) they put 
down their jug, lighted their fuse and hid - and waited - and waited - with 
never a sign of explosion- let alone fish - then they dragged themselves home 
to their waiting families.  It may not be exactly Christan but we bore our 
bad luck with better grace after we heard of theirs.

    At another time they built a trap and put in the Horton Mill pond about 
two miles up river from the dam.  One day soon afterward they came by and 
showed me several large catfish which they let me know had come from their 
trap.  Then came a sudden summer rise and washed their trap downstream and it 
had no float to mark its location they couldn't find it.

    The water soon got low again and on a Sunday morning LIGH and DEE HORTON 
while playing along the river found a fishtrap working alive with catfish.  
They reported to Mr. HORTON, their father, and he sent them to Mr. 
PENNINGTON, the postmaster, to ask him if he owned the trap.  I don't kow 
that he exactly said it was his, but he took over and gave the boys a liberal 
amount of fish and took the rest himself.

    JOHN ARMSTRONG, a deputy sheriff, was at PENNINGTON's - they were related 
- and helped eat the unexpected feast of fish and told me later about the 
wonderful lot of big catfish Mr. PENNINGTON had caught while he was visiting 
him.

    After a time it was learned that the trap the boys found was the lost 
trap of HENRY MCDAVID and GEORGE ADAMS.  They felt pretty badly about the 
loss of the trap and fish - specially the fish - but as trapping fish was 
unlawful they could do nothing about it.  Again DAN [MCDAVID] and I were able 
to bear up under their bad luck with good grace." 

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