I went to buy minnows on Sunday at Tri-State Bait and Tackle in La Crescent. As I was plunking down my $1.60, I asked the owner, Bob Veglahn, how the crappies were biting.

ìGreat if you can find them.î

I started to laugh, but stopped just in time. Bob wasnít joking.

The fish were biting fine. You just had to find them.

Wow. It was a classic bait shop owner statement.

Iím not criticizing Bob, or making fun of him. Bait shop owners have a way with words that rival Socrates, and I have great respect for that.

Think about what Bob said. He didnít say the fish werenít biting. I have never heard a bait shop owner say that. He didnít say they were biting great, because that would be a lie, and good bait show owners donít lie. They want to maintain their credibility so that that they can sell you more minnows.

What he said was the perfect statement. The fish were biting great. Hey thatís good news! Youíve just got to find them. Hey, I can do that. It was a pep talk and an optimistic forecast all rolled into six little words. Poetry.

I read another bit of bait shop wisdom a couple months ago in The La Crosse Tribune. The writer had his weekly fishing update in which he calls local outdoor store owners. The fishing was very slow, but the bait show owner being interviewed said, ìThe fish are on the verge of biting.î

Brilliant! Everybody knew the fishing was bad, but rather than say that, this guy coaxed up our hopes, like Bob had. The football coach came out. ìTheyíre on the verge of biting. Hope springs eternal. Give me a dozen minnows and make it snappy!î

Just once before I die, I would like to hear a bait shop owner say this: ìFishing is lousy. Nobodyís catching anything. You donít have a chance of getting anything tonight. You wonít get anything more than a mosquito bite. Donít bother going out. And thereís no need to buy those minnows either.î But I bet I never hear those words.

Bait shop owners are good salesmen too. They could sell sweet corn to Dean Myhre. Itís a subtle art, and By David Heiller
Iíve learned to put up my guard when I enter bait shops now. I think to myself, ìIím not going to buy anything, Iím not going to buy anything.î

I remember one time when I was younger, going fishing with a buddy from Camp Courage. I went into a bait shop by my friendís cabin. A kindly old lady stood behind the corner. She engaged me in conversation, mentioned how the pike were biting, especially on the lake we were going to. Why, someone had pulled a 12 pounder out just last week. ìHave you ever seen this Pike Jaw Spreader?î she asked. She held out a piece of steel with a spring built into the base. You squeezed it together, then when it was released, it would spread open the jaws of a pike so that you could extract the hook without getting raked by those razor sharp pike teeth. It looked like a medieval torture instrument, and it had enough torque to lift a barn off the ground. I pitied any pike that ever had one inserted in its mouth.

When we left the bait shop, I had spent about 1/50th of my summer wages.

ëYou didnít buy a Pike Jaw Spreader, did you?î my friend asked.

I had to admit that I was now the proud owner of one.

My friend shook his head and laughed. ìShe does it every time.î

I never did get the chance to use my Pike Jaw Spreader. It turned into a mass of rust in the bottom of my tackle box and I finally threw it away. But it served as a Bait Shop Lesson that Iíll never forget.

Now itís time to go fishing, if I can just find the darn things.

Top of Page

Caledonia Argus
314 West Lincoln St.
P.O. Box 227
Caledonia, MN 55921-0227
507/724-3475

E-Mail: editor.argus@ecm-inc.com