Getting ready means making taking for a fishing recollection

I had four rods and reels before me on the table.

I finished cleaning the reels and made sure the crud, old grease and dirt was banished from the smooth-running insides.

Next came the rods. First a favorite, an almost 7-foot Grandt spinning model, the workhorse of the stable, one that brought me my first 6-pound smallmouth bass. Next came the 6-foot casting rod, the one that won the battle of wits and strength with several huge Mexican largemouth bass.

Line guides were inspected as I slipped an old section of pantyhose through each one, looking and feeling for burrs and irregularities.

I followed the routine my father taught me. It had paid off for decades.

I shrugged my shoulders, wiped a tiny bit of moisture from one eye, and then poured a second cup of my infamous jet-fuel coffee.

I remembered one specific outing last year. I rarely go out in the boat alone, but this time I was fishing solo.

It was just past noon on Lake Marie. A very gentle wind slowly took me toward the shallow water right off the expanse of one of the luxurious, stone-faced houses.

I glanced at the screen of my console fish-finder and noticed it read 6 feet.

I had been daydreaming, and I then suddenly remembered to flip a jig and plastic tail over the side. Silly me. I was going to feel a strike with the terminal tackle inside the boat.

It wasn't 30 seconds before the line started moving sideways. I set the hook and quickly boated a small walleye. The wind kept pushing me to slightly deeper water. I allowed the jig to bounce off the bottom, and just as it came through a clump of weeds, I felt a strong strike.

The plastic tail on the tip end of the jig was enough to attract the attention of a Lake Marie muskie. No bruiser, and yet it was fish enough to grab my attention and my lure and force me to carefully bring it in, net it, measure it and return it to the water.

It was an eyelash over 31 inches, with a body that was built for combat and stuffing food into its mouth.

It went on like that for a couple of hours, with the Chain's bounty apparently willing to say hello in the form of grabbing the jig and tail.

I started the motor and headed for Lake Catherine, a longtime presenter of clear water with some very clean weed lines.

The very end of the long sand bar separating Channel Lake from its neighbor, Catherine, held some promise when the fish-finder lit up with arcs and smaller smudges of digital signals.

I gently dropped the electric motor down and into place so I could use it to hold the boat over this one spot.

A spinnerbait with freshly polished double blades was just what was necessary here. I flipped it up, back onto the bar and slowly retrieved it back to the boat. The four cast did the trick. A fat, prespawn largemouth bass attacked the lure with a force to be reckoned with.

My aging digital scale noted a reading of just less than 3 pounds, more than just enough to remind me the bass population may be on the rebound in quick time. I say that because I caught four more bass coming close to that original weight.

The water still hadn't shaken off its winter chill, but I really didn't care. My homemade sub sandwiches and hot coffee took my mind off this early-season escapade.

Life is good.

• Contact Mike Jackson at angler88@comcast.net, catch his radio show 7-9 a.m. Sundays on WGCO 1590-AM (live-streamed at www.1590WCGO.com) and get more content at www.mikejacksonoutdoors.com.