| About 5 miles from our farm was a place called 'tractor pond'. A bridge crossed the pond and the road led on to a river and another bridge. The pond was quite large, and deep in places. Like one end of the bridge where a tractor slid over the bank and into the pond. It totally disappeared under water. No one tried to get it out.|
One end of the pond was swamp, which drained into the pond. The other end of the pond drained out and into the river farther off. When the river flooded so did the pond. Some great fishing could be had there.
Dad loved to fish for largemouth bass. Big brother Ike didn't like fishing much so dad did his best to teach me the art of casting a fishing lure to a point exactly where I wanted it to land. At home, I would lay a short piece of 2x4 on the ground, back off a distance and cast a line with a lead weight at the board, hour after hour. Not to brag but I got very good at it. From different distances, using an old steel casting rod and dad's old Pflueger Akron casting reel that he gave me and I still have to this day, I could plop my weighted line down near either side of the board or on it if so desired.
Many a summer evening, dad and I would sneak off to our pond hidaway and fish for bass until dark. It would take too many fish to feed our family of 8 so we released them back into the pond. I've never seen dad so relaxed and happy as during those stolen moments on 'our' pond.
Submitted By: Hoppy S. from IA on 2008-10-06