A gentleman at the gas station in Christmas, Florida shared this story with me one morning recently:
“Me and my daddy used to go tobacca fishin’. You ever bin?”
I had to admit that I hadn’t.
“Daddy would stop on the way to the lake and get a pack of Red Man chewin’ tobacca. Had to be Red Man. Nothin’ else worked as good.
“Once we got to the fishin’ spot Daddy would open the pack a’ Red Man and sprinkle the chew on the water. The fish would come up to the top and get some and swim back down agin. He’d say, ‘Git the oar ready, son!’
“I’d stand there with the oar, waitin’.
“When the fish came up to spit I’d hit ‘em over the head with the oar. It worked real good- we got our limit every time!”