THE SHRIMP IS IN THE MUD

(A short tale)

It was December of 1980, when this “fishing trip” was launched. All the fishermen were Georgia boys from the landlocked city called Atlanta. The lead honcho was Jack Pittard, Jr., a dyed in the wool (since four years of age) fisherman. His Dad Jack, Sr. had made a habit of taking his little boy bass fishing whenever the urge to fish had overcome him, and so it was that the joy, mystery, and adventure of going on the water in pursuit of fishes, was burned into his being. 

This trip was going to be special, because of the location, and the fish which they were pursuing. It was Florida, or more specifically, the armpit of Florida where they were bound. 

The story they were told was that in the winter, fat trout and redfish liked to come up into the rivers in the armpit, and lodge up in the “holes” on the bottom. All you had to do, was dangle a live shrimp down in one of these holes and then hold on! The additional lure of such a trip was the certainty that you could go home with a cooler full of some of the best eating fish in the world. This was sure to ad to one’s creds as a macho man…………bringing home the eats.

The crew invited on this expedition was, for the most part, the salesmen, some customers, and one Japanese gentleman who worked for the company which wholesaled the machinery to Jack’s company and ultimately his customers. It was a foregone conclusion that because of the two customers, and one Japanese Gentleman, that the trip was deductable. So the company picked up the tab.

Jack was an only child, at least for the first 21 years of his life and even though he did have a 16 year old sister, he was still an only son. He was spoiled rotten by his mother and got accustomed to getting what he wanted. It was therefore a part of his core that, anything could be done, and whatever he wanted, he could get. And so this obsessive compulsive driven man of 37 years was determined to catch lots of fish while on this adventure, and come home with a good story. He could not conceive that the trip could turn out any other way.

Jack had rented a motor home and was accompanied by Rick, his top salesman, and Malcolm, his not so top salesman and lifelong friend; Richard Puckett, his son (customers) and Jack’s first born child Noah who was now 7 ½ years old.

Everyone arrived a bit under the influence, except for the designated driver, at Pace Fish Camp in the settlement of Steinhatchee about 8 pm on Friday night after the 7 hour drive from Atlanta.
All arrangements were made for accommodations in one of Pace’s marginal mobile homes located across the road from the “shop”, fishing tackle store, and marina. Most everything in Steinhatchee was marginal.

The guides and boats were set for an early morning departure, and so the chatter at dinner was full of grand fish catch talk…..along with a liberal amount of fried fish, cocktail sauce, vodka, and Budweiser.

The next morning, they all met the inscrutable Luke Duke, our head fishing guide for the day, promptly at 8 am at the Pace dock.

Luke was ready! And so was Jack. So, Jack asked Luke, are we ready, and do we have enough live shrimp?

To his chagrin, Luke’s reply was, there are no shrimp………..the shrimp is in the mud!

Jack was not sure what I had heard. He did not know what, “ the shrimp is in the mud” meant! Sadly, all too soon, he knew. The cold front which had passed thru the day before was a ripper, and the temperature had dropped like a bucket; and so did the shrimp. The shrimp were burrowed into the grass on the bottom of the ocean, and no self respectful Shrimper would dare go out and drag his nets. All the shrimpers knew they would not catch any shrimp; and so it was:  no shrimpers, no nets, no LIVE SHRIMP!

So, they boarded Captain Luke’s 20 foot craft, armed only with artificial baits, and headed out on the river. It was worse than he thought. After changing locations 5 times, and flinging his mirror lure more than a hundred times, he had had it! “Shrimp in the mud indeed!” Bullshit! “This is Florida, and NOBODY IS GOING TO TELL ME THAT THERE ARE NO SHRIMP IN FLORIDA!”

Jack told Luke to take him to the dock. He told everyone I would head south until he found shrimp, even if it meant I had to go to Miami, and by God I meant it! He had to do something, he could not go to all this trouble and come all the way to the armpit and not catch fish. It wasn’t right, and it was not supposed to be this way. But Jack was worried!

It was about 10 am when he departed the parking lot at Pace. It was not even 7 miles when the first sign, LIVE SHRIMP! appeared. Of course he stopped, even though, for the most part, he was sure that Luke was right about the mud…..”mamm, have you got any live shrimp?” And her reply, “Son, don’t you know the shrimp is in the mud?”

He turned a walked back to the car only mumbling under his breath that he understood. He was Pissed!

Florida and no shrimp! Bullshit!

Soon, back on US 98 barreling south, he was scanning every sign, looking for those large capital letters,LIVE SHRIMP! Within 20 miles another saw sign came into view, and after cramming the gear lever into park, he jumped out and thru the door of the little typical armpit establishment, “asking the attendant, sweetly (as if it would make a difference),”You got any LIVE SHRIMP?” Same answer, “The shrimp’s in the mud!”

Better than an Hour and a half into this silly adventure, nearing the town of Chiefland on hw 19, with visions of Tampa and south Florida in his head. Jack was trying to calculate in his head, just how strong is this front, and is it likely that the temperature is that much warmer in Tampa; but really wondering if I will ever get a response other than, ”the shrimp is in the mud!”

He was damn near to Crystal River when the final sign appeared. It was just like all the rest; big block letters, L-I-V-E S-H-R-I-M-P. Goddammit! When will the answer be different?

She had a nice face, the attractive lady behind the counter. Jack was a little sheepish, as he once again gave it a try. “Have you got any live shrimp?”  She did not immediately answer. This was new! Then all at once, the words came out, “I will have plenty in the morning”. He was excited and blurted out, “how can that be …that you will have shrimp in the morning, when everyone I have talked to for the last 150 miles says the shrimp is in the mud”. Her answer came fast, “I don’t know about that, but Captain John told me he would be here tomorrow, at 7 am with 300 dozen live shrimp.” He replied, “Mamm , what is your name”? She came back, “Sue”.

“ Sue, can I talk to the good Captain?”  She said, “no problem, I will get him on the line”!After three rings, he answered, ”John here”! “Captain, I am Jack, and I am down here with Sue at Ed’s Tackle Shop, and she told me you were bringing her 300 dozen live shrimp in the morning! Is that true?” His reply was swift, and certain, “a-b-o-s-u-l-u-t-e-l-y!”

“Captain, How can that be, the shrimps in the mud!” John said, “ Yes it is true that the shrimp are generally in the mud when the temperature is this cold, but I will be dragging my nets just outside the warm water discharge gates at the Crystal River Nuclear plant, where the shrimp are definitely not in the mud!”

He could not believe his luck. Jack thanked him and told him he would go ahead and pay Sue for 144 dozen, and would look forward to being back down tomorrow.” Then I turned to Sue. “Sue, here is my money, I will have two of my crew down at about 9 in the am to pick up the 144 dozen; and can you also supply me two large Styrofoam coolers with those battery powered aerators?” He gave her the money, and smiling, got back in the car, happy on the road back to the armpit.

He was back at the dock at 6 pm to find the irrepressible Coleman downing another Budweiser. What a reassuring sight.

“Coleman, what did you guys catch?” Nuthin! All day and no fish! “Well son, I have got some news for you! Then Jack told the Nuclear tale. He was astounded and shook his head, and said, “this is just like yo , Jack”.  You crazy bastard, only you could find shrimp!”

The plan was that Jack’s two crack salesmen would get up at 6 am and burn out to Crystal River and bring back the Styrofoam coolers loaded with gold! The reality the next morning was different than planned, thanks to the drinking and burning of the midnight oil, by Malcolm and Coleman. Jack found them still sleeping at 9 a.m. and was mad. “You jackasses, I found the shrimp and you are still here?” They responded and were burning rubber within 15 minutes, still perhaps a little woozy.

It would be near one p.m. before the two incompetent ones arrived, complete with the bubbling coolers, filled to the gills with 144 dozen live shrimp. 

They all gathered near the docks to disperse the shrimp to the 4 boats. Luke Duke’s eyes were as large as cantaloupes. The brain behind those eyes could not completely grasp what he was seeing, to Luke, the shrimp was, “in the mud”!

What happened in Jack’s boat, was unlike anything he had ever seen. Jack never caught even one fish. Jack spent a solid three hours, hooking live shrimp and passing the rod to either his son Noah, or Nao Tamura. Then within 30 seconds, each of them would bring a trout to the side of the boat, and Jack would take the fish off, toss it into the cooler, replace the live shrimp and pass the rod back again to his two anglers.

The result of all these efforts, is the attached photo. The cooler was filled the cooler to the brim with Sea Trout.

Nao was first to stop fishing. In his best Japanese American English, he took the hook and stuck it in the end of the cork handle on the spinning rod and said, “Enough! No more! “

When they got back to the dock, everyone wanted to see all the fish. After all, they were the only ones on the river with any live shrimp. Jack was as tired as he had ever been, but he knew he had to get a good photo of all these fish; and so found an old cane pole. Methodically, Jack began to run the pole thru the gills of as many fish as he could, in order to make for a memorable photo. It must have taken an hour. Then with the job complete, He found the appropriate location to stage the photo, and asked his pal Coleman to take his camera and shoot a picture with his little boy Noah, at his left side.

 And so it was that while the shrimp were indeed in the mud, Jack found a way to, once again, have his way, and in doing so, create a memory, he would never forget, and in his mind, the best fish photo ever taken.