I KNELT, peering through a cellophane veil, studying what I thought was a good-sized moss-colored log until it turned into the biggest largemouth I’ve ever seen and swam off.
I may or may not have squealed.
I needed my fly rod. Instead of racing to the cabin like a kid to a recess water fountain, I managed to only kind of speed-walk like I had to get to the bathroom.
Most every puddle and drip of water has a fish of folk legend. In Leakey, Texas, that monster is ‘Big John.’ And generations of Leakey boys have exhausted themselves trying to fool him. The fish gods will surely be smiling on the angler who finally does. That 68 degree water has perfect clarity, bait-o-plenty, and enough hiding spots for a thousand years of hide and seek. The bass are healthy, spry, and watching you like roaming librarians.