This buddy of mine and I usually take an annual fishing trip. We usually take either his or my small boat, the kind you put an electric trolling motor on and hope your battery can last all day and the wind doesn’t blow too bad.
My ribs usually hurt the next day from laughing, and sometimes my head hurts too. We usually end up with some fish, although sometimes we don’t, and when we don’t, it really isn’t that big of a deal to us.
This particular time it was to a lake that was loaded with largemouth bass and northern pike. We put the boat in and skirted the weed line, casting our lures into the weed edges. We picked up a few largemouth bass along the weed line and decided we would cut diagonally across the lake, and let the wind drift us back across it.
About halfway across on our drift we still had not hooked any northerns. With all of our “go-to” lures proven ineffective, we both started to think outside the box. My buddy bravely grabbed a pink casting spoon, snapped it on, and with confidence began casting. He was ignoring all the chiding and chirping coming from me about his masculinity, using a pink spoon. I just couldn’t let it go. Here was my big tough friend with a girly looking lure. He and I both raised daughters, so I let him know that maybe he grabbed the wrong tackle box that morning when, WHAM! it hit. It wasn’t the biggest northern I had ever seen, but it was a nice one, and the sight of the pink spoon hanging out of its mouth closed my mouth for the time being.
Frantically I began to dig through my tackle box. I had to have one in there. He was quick to mention that his pink spoon was for sale, a comment I found little humor in, but deserved nonetheless. Finally I found one. A pink spoon with black polka dots buried in the recesses of my tackle box to avoid anyone seeing it or knowing I had it. I tied it on and began casting. It didn’t take long. Was it the color? Had to be. Because pike after pike told us so that day.
To this day we still laugh about the pink spoon. And you can bet your last dollar that there is one in both our tackle boxes every time we head out.