The Cricket Bag

“A man in a tuxedo walks into a bait shop…”  This must sound like the set-up for a joke.  But no, this is the true story of my first encounter with crickets as bait.  My wife and I were spending the weekend with two other couples at a place on the Tchefuncte River.  My friend James had brought his bass boat, and Glen had a canoe.  There was a dock and a place to swim, so altogether this had the makings of a great weekend.

Glen was a prolific beer drinker.  That Saturday night, after a long day of Glen’s heavy drinking, I was awakened by the sound of him getting up and walking to the bathroom.  I heard a loud bump and a louder “&%#!!”.  I giggled a little at his plight, and noticed my wife had awakened as well.  Being in a small cabin it was not hard to hear the waterfall as he vented the day’s drink.  But he went on, and on, and on.  I started to laugh, trying hard to hold it in.  But my wife started to laugh, too, and we both lay in bed shaking violently as we tried hard not to laugh out loud as the waterfall went on, and on, and on.  Finally I said as quietly as I could, “Why are you laughing?”  She said, “No wonder he braved whatever he bumped into, he REALLY had to go!”  “That’s why I’m laughing, too!” I said, and we both exploded into loud guffaws.  Fortunately Glen was oblivious to our laughter.

Sunday I had to do a magic show in town.  In those days I wore a tuxedo, even for a kid’s party.  James said to me before I left, “There’s a bait shop in Madisonville.  Why don’t you stop and get some crickets and we will bream fish when you get back.”  Sounded like a plan.

I did the party and, as I was driving back to the cabin, found the bait shop right where James said it would be.  I walked in still dressed in my tux and, as the proprietor eyed me suspiciously, I asked for 50 crickets.  He promptly served them up in a small, brown paper bag which I stuffed into my pocket as I headed back to the cabin.  After arriving, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt, transferring the cricket bag to my pants pocket and I went to find James.

He asked, “Did you get the crickets?”  “Yeah, I have them right here,” I said, pulling out the bag.  He said, “They didn’t give you a box?”  “Were they supposed to?” I responded, genuinely confused.  I had never fished with crickets and did not know about the now familiar box with the two small holes and revolving top where you could release them one at a time, then close it off so more would not escape.  “Well,” he said, “we’ll have to make do.”  So we headed down to the bank for the boat.

“We’re just going over to the other bank,” he said, “so let’s take the canoe.”  So we got in with me in front and James in back.  We paddled to the other side and it was time to bait up.  As carefully as I could, I opened the top of the bag and grabbed the first cricket that crawled out, handing it to James.  The second one I grabbed for me.  The third and fourth jumped past me into the bottom of the canoe before I could close the bag.  Oh well, a little less bait.

For easier access I laid the bag in the bottom of the canoe.  As often is the case, the bottom of the canoe had a little water in it and before too long the bag was wet.  The next time I tried to get a cricket, the bag broke and crickets went everywhere!  James was yelling at me because the bait was now all over the place, but I had a much greater concern.  One of the crickets had made his way up the leg of my jeans and was headed north.  As he passed my knee I was slapping and yelling as the canoe started tipping back and forth.  “Sit still or you’ll tip us over,” James yelled.  But that cricket was on the move and I was determined to stop him before he reached critical mass.  I finally was able to grab him through the denim and smash him between my fingers.  By that time, most of the rest of the crickets had jumped over the side so we paddled back to the shore.

We caught no fish that day, but I think in the end James found the experience profitable, judging by how many times over the next twenty years he would chuckle as he said to me in front of our construction worker friends, “Jimbeaux, tell ’em about the cricket bag!”

Tags: crickets, fishing, humor, vacation