Sunday, May 13, 2007
Texas' most dangerous game
I partook of one of my favorite hobbies this weekend, known to many on the Gulf coast as the sport of kings, the proving grounds of true sportsmen (who've grown a pair). I wrestled with the great calcified leviathan, the 8-armed dreadnought, the Texas blue crab. At times I was assisted by my wife or my in-laws, but for the most part it was purely man and dog (Shipley) against beast. For the most part, I was victorious. I sustained a few minor wounds while field dressing the great monsters, but I think they should heal.
Crabbing gets short shrift as an outdoors sport. I think, in part, it's because it's so accessible. You don't need a $30,000 boat or high-tech carbon fiber rods with neon lures to try your luck. All you need is a ball of string, some small pieces of metal for weight, a net, and whatever scrap meat (bone-in) is cheapest at the grocery store.
There's a definite skill in being able to detect by the way the line hangs down into the water whether or not a crab is chewing on your bait, and being able to gently haul the crab up to the surface without them suspecting your game is a veritable art form. Cagey quarry, the blue crab.
And yet, you never see a crabbing column in the sports section next to hunting and fishing. I've never seen any feature articles written on the best bait, how much weight to use, or how to look for the perfect crabbing pier. Instead, we get thousands of pages of ads for bass boats and bay boats, and reams of articles on how to hook redfish and trout.
What's funny, I think, is that crabbing is pretty much your best bet if you compare the odds of catching what you set out after with the amount of effort and expense required to play the game. I caught half a dozen big crabs with 4 lines and a few old soup bones, and I was multitasking in other projects the whole time. Not to mention drinking heavily. Beat that, you uppity lure-fishing snobs. ¶ 9:08 PM
I partook of one of my favorite hobbies this weekend, known to many on the Gulf coast as the sport of kings, the proving grounds of true sportsmen (who've grown a pair). I wrestled with the great calcified leviathan, the 8-armed dreadnought, the Texas blue crab. At times I was assisted by my wife or my in-laws, but for the most part it was purely man and dog (Shipley) against beast. For the most part, I was victorious. I sustained a few minor wounds while field dressing the great monsters, but I think they should heal.
Crabbing gets short shrift as an outdoors sport. I think, in part, it's because it's so accessible. You don't need a $30,000 boat or high-tech carbon fiber rods with neon lures to try your luck. All you need is a ball of string, some small pieces of metal for weight, a net, and whatever scrap meat (bone-in) is cheapest at the grocery store.
There's a definite skill in being able to detect by the way the line hangs down into the water whether or not a crab is chewing on your bait, and being able to gently haul the crab up to the surface without them suspecting your game is a veritable art form. Cagey quarry, the blue crab.
And yet, you never see a crabbing column in the sports section next to hunting and fishing. I've never seen any feature articles written on the best bait, how much weight to use, or how to look for the perfect crabbing pier. Instead, we get thousands of pages of ads for bass boats and bay boats, and reams of articles on how to hook redfish and trout.
What's funny, I think, is that crabbing is pretty much your best bet if you compare the odds of catching what you set out after with the amount of effort and expense required to play the game. I caught half a dozen big crabs with 4 lines and a few old soup bones, and I was multitasking in other projects the whole time. Not to mention drinking heavily. Beat that, you uppity lure-fishing snobs. ¶ 9:08 PM
