“If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.”
-Samuel Adams
“If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.”
-Samuel Adams
Mollie
I’ll agree with the fish on the bone tasting the best. I don’t cook them that way myself often, there’s usually too many old women and kids around when we cook up fish and they prefer filets. But every year when the Horn boys do their fish fry there’s a huge container of bone-in bream. There’s an old timer I rabbit hunt with some and I always sit across the table from him and it’s like a contest between us seeing who can eat the most of those whole bream
its a mollie. and your man card has been revoked.
go can some veggies for the bunker.
Ugh. Stupid people piss me off.
The warmouth, is a freshwater fish of the sunfish family that is found throughout the eastern United States. Other local names include molly, redeye, goggle-eye, red-eyed bream, and strawberry perch.
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Googles wrong. Red eye is a bass, goggle eye is a crappie.
When I was a kid we had access to a couple of land locked oxbows of Little Pee Dee. Well, land locked during the summer when the river fell out, anyway. In the wintertime (while we were shooting woodrows feeding on the oak ridges between the lake and the river), I always imagined all the fish leaving the hustle and bustle of the main river and swimming through the swamp and settling into the oxbows, where living would be easy...or so they thought. When the water fell out the next spring, my brother and I were there to fall in on them like (almost literally) fish in a barrel. My Dad would paddle my brother and I down the lake parallel to the bank. Bream busters and crickets were the ticket. We could flick a cricket on a cork up in the cypress knees or right off the butt of a big cypress and that's where those big ol' fat mollies would hide. I'll always remember how they would bite...you'd see the cork wiggle a little and then start to move across the surface. That's when you set the hook. If you had a good one, for a moment you thought you were snagged on a knee. Those were some serious slabs. A couple more feet off the bank you'd catch those monster knobby headed copperhead blue gills and an occasional redbreast. If you were really feeling froggy you could toss your bait off the other side of the boat, where most enterprising mudfish would hop on a cricket pretty quick and take you for the ride of your life on a bream buster. If the low water persisted into the first few weeks of September, we'd listen to Jim Phillips call a Clemson Tiger football game on the radio while catching them...then maybe even shoot some doves in my Granddaddy's cut cornfield - now that was living!!!
Now I have kids of my own. We fish a ton and they've caught a bunch of mollies in the creeks and ponds around the house. But they are nothing like those old hogs my brother and I used to haul out of the knees in the Little Pee Dee River swamp. I need to get back in there somehow.
Haven't fished a pond with those in some years but that sure appears a lot darker colored than what we have here. Fierce defenders of their beds. Have caught them on bass jitter bugs like that.
Worship the LORD, not HIS creation.
"No self respecting turkey hunter would pay $5 for a call that makes a good sound when he can buy a custom call for $80 and get the same sound."-NWiles
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