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IThe grand champion this year is Gregory Dick, of Valley
City, who in eight hours, 7 AM to 3 PM, Saturday, August 4, landed 91
pounds of bullhead catfish. He fished with two poles, with worms and bobbers,
from the dock about thirty feet from the weigh station. Focus, proficiency,
and perseverance won the day.
The day being, of course, the 16th Annual Bullhead Derby, organized out
of Kelly’s Crossing, on Lake Ashtabula, by the Barnes County Wildlife
Federation. The event is intended as a recreational spark during the doldrum
days of slow fishing in late summer, and also as a control measure on
the more-than-healthy population of bullheads in an otherwise fine fishing
lake.
Bullheads, I should mention, are not held in high repute by anglers today.
They hold a place of honor, however, in regional memory. Countless kids
have been initiated to the wonders of fishing by hungry and cooperative
bullheads. Moreover, these little catfish once were prized as table fare,
being caught by the sack-full from muddy creeks and sloughs and fried
crisp. In fact, the Bullhead Derby organizers clean and fry much of the
catch on site for the enjoyment of participants and spectators, who invariably
express surprise that the morsels they sample are tasty. Still, the obsession
with walleyes prevails in these parts, and so most people hold bullheads
in contempt.
Bullheads in general (black, brown, and yellow) range throughout the United
States east of the Rockies. They are everywhere, and they are tough. As
Henry David Thoreau wrote of bullheads, which he called horned pout, “They
are very tenacious of life, opening and shutting their mouths for half
an hour after their heads have been taken off.”
The black bullhead is the common species in these parts. They do not grow
large. Seldom do you see one larger than a pound, and the state record
is 4 lbs. 1 oz., taken at Devils Lake in 1988, by a six-year-old kid.
The state game and fish department designates 2 lbs. as the threshold
for membership in the Bullhead category of the Whopper Club.
Judging by the trailer-load of bullheads gathered at Kelly’s Crossing
this year, the bullhead population in Ashtabula is healthy. Most of the
fish were big enough to clean and eat; many were a pound or more.
The derby, as an event, is flourishing, too. Records were set this year
for number of participants (173) and pounds of bullheads weighed in (1822).
That’s right, 1822 pounds, nearly a ton of bullheads.
You can watch people crank in bullheads all day, but the spectacle really
gets going just before 3 o’clock, when the contestants come buzzing
in by boat and trudging, bucket-laden, off the docks to weigh in their
catches. In the meantime, there are minnow-races, in which sucker minnows
are encouraged to wriggle up plastic-pipe water races by kids blowing
through straws. It’s hard to explain, you have to be there.
The bullheads keep coming in, and the pile in the trailer gets deeper
and slimey-er, every bucket emptying in with a satisfying slap and slosh,
kids perched on the trailer, squealing with mock-disgust that is really
delight.
Anyway, it’s worth seeing, and if you can’t be there, here’s
a place you can have a look. Go to the radio section of prairiepublic.org;
the Plains Folk page there has a link to my Plains Folk Home Page. Follow
that, go to my blog, called “Travel on the Gravel,” and you’ll
find images and video of the 16th Annual Bullhead Derby.
This text and audio may not be copied without securing
prior permission from Plains Folk.
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