Freedom worth fighting for

When you think you have a smallmouth bass vanquished, you might not.

Anyone who has fished much for the state's feistiest game fish can attest to their uncompromising commitment to freedom.

No fish I've ever caught has come out with its hands up. But within the bounds of the valid “pound for pound” disclaimer, they all give up easier than the smallmouth.

When constrained by a hook and tight line, they jump farther out of the water and hang there in gill-rattling outrage longer than any of their fresh water associates. Like a mad dog, they never seem to tire of hurling themselves forward at the end of the chain.

Even when you have one in hand, endeavoring to unhook it and let it go, it would rather assert its freedom than have it bestowed. Fixing you with its red-eye glare, it will flex and writhe in an intense effort to free itself of your grasp. If you are careless or unlucky, it will stick you with your own hooks.

Most of the time, I don't really care if a smallmouth bass frees itself before I've had the honor. But on Wednesday evening I hooked an especially nice one deserving of a photograph.

It bent my rod in a pulsing arc and showed its broad gray tail several times before blasting out of the water in a shimmering mist of Wapsipinicon spray.

With the current amplifying its might, it made the drag on my spinning reel buzz as it tested the strength of my tackle.

When it finally stopped gaining line, I backed slowly toward a sandbar at the river's edge, where I intended to beach the fish for its portrait.

Having been towed into the shallows, the fish shifted into full desperation mode, leaping twice more from the water at the end of its slashing zigzag runs before coming to rest on its side with its nose to the bank.

With the fish at my feet in shallow water, seemingly subdued, I held the rod high with one hand while I fished around inside my waders with the other for the camera.

When I finally got it unsheathed, I looked through the viewfinder for my fish, only to see my bare lure bobbing at the end of my line and something unseen pulling a v-shaped wake into the deeper water.