I’m not a very good caster, or fisherman, but the majority of my casts fall within the
banks, which (in theory) greatly increase my odds. So I fling the fly around, and it
sometimes lands in the water. It takes a few drifts until something darts from the
shadows and smashes the dry, taking it deep beneath the surface in one vicious
exhibition of murderous intent. The line tightens and sings and the rod bends and a few
seconds later I lift the quarter-pound exterminator out of the water. Blood red eyes and
a fluorescent turquoise gill plate, some of the loudest colors I’ve seen on a fish. And not
a trout fish. A bass fish. A redeye bass fish...
The first time I heard the expression “Bama Brookie”, I was immediately disgusted.
Here in the heart of Dixie, when we slap our regional brand on an existing item it
usually involves either making it accessible to the illiterate or deep frying it. Maybe
both. My observations have shown there is a large overlap between people who are
non-readers and people who like fried stuff.
“Bama Brookie” seemed to equivocate a small bass with something that really is special,
like the native brook trout that abound in Southern Appalachia. The term brought to
mind images of rednecks yanking half pounders out of a pond and considering their
experience paramount to those who stalk fish high in the mountains of Tennessee.