It was too darn hot to fish during the day.
So we waited and waited. Sitting under the shade of an aging sycamore, with the boat already launched and pulled back up to shore, we dozed until the sun was close to setting.
No matter, we knew the fish we were after bit better at night. That fish, the invasive but tenacious flathead catfish – and by the way, the only fish that ever, anywhere, snapped a rod I was using – has become a popular target in every part of Pennsylvania with a “warm” river.
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