Would almost die for a catfish
Georgia angler nearly loses life trying to feed congregation
Editor's note: Anglers across the U.S. are buying fishing licenses in record numbers. Following is a story in our new series, Fishing America, representing a slice of American angling pursuits.
Jerry Smith knew he needed a photo of this catfish, otherwise no one would believe him.
"I swear that cat had to be twice as big as the 50-pounder I caught last week," said Smith as he recalled the details of his outing on the banks of Little River in Cherokee County, Ga.
"Its head was 18, 22 inches wide," said Smith, holding his tattooed arms out in front of him. The Georgia state record flathead is a 83-pounder.
The humongous flathead on his trot line had surfaced and started ripping down river. Smith grabbed the 235-pound test with one hand. He also fumbled in his pocket for his camera phone. The 12-foot john boat spun around as Smith stood up to click a photo of the fish. The fat cat lunged and pulled the line through Smith's hands. One of the dropper hooks already aboard swiped past his leg and caught his shorts.
That's when everything changed.
The boat capsized. Two fishing rods, a tackle box and three catfish caught earlier that day went in the drink along with Smith.
"It dove, and I went in," Smith said.
Little River isn't swift here, and it's only about 20 feet deep. But Smith felt like it was an abyss. He was attached to a bad-ass catfish — a much better swimmer than he — and it was going down fast!
"I panicked," said Smith, who is broadly built and not afraid of much. "It was real scary. I thought, This is it."
That's when the life-long angler realized he always kept an Uncle Henry's knife on his belt in a leather sheath. Under the brown, muddy water, Smith reached for the hilt, freed the blade and sliced the dropper line.
He popped to the surface, but the camera phone didn't.
Smith made it to shore, and realized the nasty cat was still on. Smith grabbed a trot-line float and hand-over-fisted the monster to him. He could taste victory and vindication.
What could go wrong now?
"The hook straightened," said Smith, of the 4/0 bait holder.
The cat swam downriver, untethered, but perhaps short one of its nine lives.
Back at the banks of Little River, telling the story, Smith shook his head. He smiled, tugged on a cigarette and cast a live shiner into the narrow, lazy river.
If only he had the picture.
"I'll be back here tomorrow at about 6:30 a.m., if you want to come back and take a picture of another big catfish," he said in his Southern accent. "Now I can't guarantee it, but I've always got one or two in the morning."
He pulled in five plump catfish to 5 pounds before church.
Smith, 42, is a Texas native and a fishing machine. He's been fishing Little River for the past 18 years and pretty much has it wired.
Beside epic cats, Smith also takes striped bass to 20 pounds, hybrid bass to 8 pounds and white bass to about 2 pounds regularly with live shiners or chicken livers. When he uses a rod and reel, he adds an egg-sinker rig.
"The shiners are the best, the larger the better," said Smith.
He doesn't target largemouth. He doesn't like the way they taste.
Smith is a meat-fisher.
You would too if you were expected to feed the congregation of "The Entire Bible" Baptist church in Acworth, Ga., locally known as TEB church. Smith had been catching fish for the church's fish fry. He was up to 60 pounds of fillets.
It might be hard to believe, but despite the pressure of feeding the flock, and of nearly drowning by the fish that caught the fisherman, Smith said he's here because it's relaxing.
"It's peaceful here," he said. "I just enjoy fishing. I've been doing it all my life.
"Come by Sunday afternoon if you want some catfish from the grill," he said. "It'll be good."
