My Grandpa and I were going fishing one Sunday afternoon. We were walking towards a small pond about a 1/2 mile from the gravel road we had pulled to the side of. It was about 10 miles from anywhere substantial. We plodded over several hills through the neatly clipped cow pasture . It was on Logan Hodge's farm, he was a friend of the family and the Deputy Sheriff for the county.
When we got to the small murky brown pond, no more than 30 feet across, I asked Grandpa what he had brought for bait. He reached into a big paper sack that he had been carrying and pulled out a huge package wrapped tight in white butcher paper.
He was unwrapping the paper very slowly and I leaned in closely in eager anticipation to see what mystery he was slowly uncovering.
With a quick flourish he simultaneously unwrapped and unleashed a giant pinkish red blur and slapped me upside the face with a rough, foot-long cow tongue. He slid the tongue over my face as he laughed uproarilously and I fell backward down the bank, almost into the pond before I caught myself in startled surprise.
A cow tongue! Grandpa had brought an enormous cow tongue as bait. He proceeded to take out his pocket knife and hack small bits of it off for us to use as bait. Gross.
...to be continued....
