Valet Service


I don�t know whether it�s my excitement, the full moon, or having the whole highway to myself, but it�s 4:00am and I am wide awake heading towards Lake Texoma. Cody Standerfer has been asking me to hit the water with him for a couple of months now, and today is finally the day. All I�ve heard about is how good the shallow jig bite can be in the heat of summer, and after spending the last two months fishing minnows down here at Cedar Creek, I�m ready to feel some serious thump.

I like driving the highways that cross Texas in the predawn hours of the morning. The sense of ownership and freedom that I feel has to rival the feelings of the early prairie riders that went up and down the Chisolm Trail. Pushing cattle for not just a paycheck, but also because they to could never stand a four walled office building lined with gray suits and the day to day killing of their dreams.

Rambling thoughts and classic rock ease me into Prosper, TX around 5:07am. I quietly load my tackle and filet knife into Cody�s boat, which is already hooked up to his patiently waiting truck. I�m trying to not wake up his neighbors in the process, because if you�re up at this hour, and don�t have a day full of hunting and fishing ahead of you, then you aren�t happy.

Moments later, somebody slides out the front door of the house, making their way over to me for a handshake and some bs. I like Cody. He�s always smiling, he�s transparent in his ways, and he has a passion for the outdoors. For some reason he�s been kind enough to ask me to join him, and I can�t hardly wait. I�ve heard a lot about his success as a crappie fishermen, and today I get to see him in action. By now the truck engine has had time to stretch, the cigarettes are snuffed out, and we�re ready for a day on the Red River�s finest body of water.

Gray light greets us as we circle the water wagon by the boat ramp. I�m scarfing down a sausage biscuit that today�s guide has been kind enough to buy me. Between the melted cheese I�ve just found in my beard, and the fact that there is hardly a ripple on the now pink waters of Texoma, I let Cody know that today is going to be a good day.

Peeling the sides off of his boat, we are making time as we head to the first spot. �Dang man, I didn�t know aluminum could move this fast!� Cody laughs and looks ahead to where point B lies ahead. He�s got quite the arsenal of rods in his boat, a true reflection of a tournament fisherman. Every pole in the boat has the same jig on it, which all happen to be different from mine. Oh well, when they�re biting they�re biting.

The boat comes off plane in five feet of water, and with the sun just barely showing itself, I feel like we�re in the opening credits of a Bill Dance fishing show. �Lane, this is PVC pipe with all sorts of crazy stuff sticking off the side.� �Alright then, let�s see who�s home.� Cody must�ve known the secret knock, because in a matter of seconds, a big white crappie is head shaking on the surface. Nice.



Ten minutes later, we�re on spot number two. This time it�s a long log ranging from four to six feet of water. Again, Cody sets me up perfectly on the pile. I haven�t had this opportunity since my days of being a customer of Chuck�s, over three years ago. I�m dabbling around the log, when I hear splashing in front of me. �Nice fish man!� I go back to jigging, and it doesn�t take long before Cody puts another two fish in the boat. Laughing at the fact that he is catching more fish than me on a jig that I made him, I voice my opinion of the situation. �Cody, you�re killing me with my own sword.� Amused, he replies �you know Lane, when I go on a guide trip, I tend to use what the guide is using.� Touche.

There�s a log behind us that is barely breaking the surface, in water that can�t be more than four feet deep. �What do you think man?� �There�s only one way to find out.� Bumping the trolling motor and sneaking up to our target, we see what looks to be a fallen cedar, with a short trunk, and wide sprawling branches. �We�re not going to get our jigs back unless we have a fish on them.� We ease our jigs down. Again, Cody puts me on the bullseye. And again, Cody strikes first. Obligated to razz a full time crappie guide, he let�s me know that he simply can�t catch all of these fish by himself. Working better under pressure, I proceed to put eight in a row under the live-well lid. Somewhere around fish six or seven, I hear �If I would�ve known you were going to put on a clinic, I wouldn�t have said anything.� Laughing, I reply how he made me feel guilty for having him do all the work.

We scoot around from pile to pile, giving each spot three to five minutes to produce. We catch a few here and there, all of which are healthy sized crappie. We come upon a set of stumps, again in shallow water. There is approximately five feet between the two stumps, which apparently is plenty enough room for about a half dozen barn doors. A term not to be used lightly. Before Cody�s first drop ever makes it to the bottom, his pole is being strained by what turns out to be a fourteen inch head shaker. He plops it on the carpet of the boat, and in less than a minute, is performing the same process all over again. I unroot another solid fish and bring it to the surface, only to have it get off. Our first lost fish of the day. �I didn�t want to clean that one, the bones looked too big.�

From this pile on, the rest of the day is a blur of shallow water, hearty laughs, and the eminent onset of carpal-tunnel. No joke folks, I�m talking about thirteen and fourteen inch fish that are coming absolutely unglued at the fact that a �bait fish� has the nerve to swim around in their home water. Every pile we stop at, Cody puts me right where the pile is, gives me first drop, and tells me exactly what the pile is made of, and how to coerce the fish from the given area. The way the fish are thumping my jig today closely parallels my ideas of what heave must be like. I am having more fun than I�ve had in awhile, and I owe it all to him and the Man upstairs.

The mid day sun is cocked a little to the West now, as the hour approaches one o�clock. The fish must�ve heard the rumor that there�s a fish killer on the loose, as they are now in a bit of a lull. �How many do you think we�ve got floating around back there?� I�ve been responsible for the clicker all day, which is about the only real job I�ve been assigned. �We�re in the mid to upper thirties for sure,� I respond. �What do you think about cleaning some fish?� Considering I�ve been fed a couple of meals, chauffeured all around the lake, been put on countless fish, and treated to a red carpet kind of day, I think cleaning some fish sounds just about perfect. �Let�s do it buddy.�








The Evictor is shown at the top

Nice.....

Great read, awesome trip.

My favorite crappie lake! Good job lane

Fun read and looks like a fantastic trip

Very nice

Thank ya'll very much for the good words. Putting those fish on a taco shell was almost as much fun as catching them.

Nice trip. Nothing better than fried crappie.

Great day!!

With one heck of a super post. Thanks for sharing.

Great story and very well written!

Thanks for posting!

Dang, I never thought about Texoma being a good crappie lake, those are some seriously healthy slabs!

Very nice.

Nice Fish. Super Report! Thanks for sharing.