The voice on the telephone said, “C’mon up. Now!”
That definitely sounded like a command.
“They are biting in the fish house,” the voice said.
“Fish house? What’s that,” I asked.
“It’s kind of like a boathouse,” Josh Andrews said impatiently. “Just come up. I’ll show you.”
“My grandson is here helping me on the farm right now. I can’t just take off,” I protested.
“Bring him too. Just come on.”
Patience obviously isn’t the 33-year-old’s long suit when the fish are biting.
So, with Jake Gros in tow, I set off for Lake St. John, the big Mississippi River-formed oxbow lake northeast of Ferriday. And my 11-year-old fish killer was overjoyed to be in on the run.
A knock on the door of the home set on the banks of the lake produced no answer, but a yell caught our attention. Andrews was waving us to come out to a nondescript, gray metal building set at the far end of a long pier.
After our eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the building, we could see that he and his two considerably older partners in crime were already busy sending white perch, as crappie are invariably called here, to meet their maker.
Bluford “Pappy” Ward, from Vidalia, is a retired heavy equipment operator. The 96-year-old is a World War II veteran who lost most of his hearing in the conflict. Fishing in a house is perfect for him.