The small college I attended in South Carolina was situated on a significant piece of land in the state’s Piedmont region. There were rolling sand hills covered in pine trees, and sharp bluffs overlooking a broad river. We also had two ponds. Each held significant populations of the premier fish of the American south: the largemouth bass.
It is hard to overestimate the cultural ubiquity of the largemouth bass in the majority of the sub-Mason-Dixon region. Their silhouettes adorn everything from mudflaps to biceps. They’re found everywhere, they grow large, and they eat everything. This last aspect of their character is what I’ll be discussing today.
Even before I considered fishing either of the campus ponds I spent time walking their weedy banks. Coming from a slightly more northern latitude, I was fascinated by the fire ants and rattlesnakes that simply existed in the real south. I was amazed to find giant spiders creating webs between cattails. I was terrified by the car tire sized snapping turtles. I was intrigued when a faint slap on the surface of the water resulted in an explosion that sounded like a cinder block had been tossed into the pond.
More interesting was that it happened again. This time I saw what caused it.
