The lone upside of flooding: great catfishing

Mike Stuckey Senior news editor • Profile • E-mail

CLARKSVILLE, Mo. - Treasure lies in the dark river, clothed in iridescent greens and yellows, slipping smoothly down the main channel, bumping up into the flooded bottomlands, gliding, prowling, lurking.

In a crazy commotion of slapping water, it comes squirming and flopping into the bottom of Jim Dockery’s aluminum jon boat.

“That’s a big boy!” Dockery yells, his glee shining through his bushy gray beard.

Behold Ictalurus punctatus, the common channel catfish. By the time this three-hour Wednesday morning outing is over, Dockery and his future son-in-law, Anthony Redd, will have hauled about three dozen channel cats into their G.I.-green boat. He figures the fish will dress out into 80 pounds of prime fillets worth about $250.

The fishing trip is a welcome respite for Dockery, 61, a 35-year resident of the Clarksville area who has spent much of the last week helping friends and neighbors trying to fend off the rising waters of the Mississippi River.

High water a boon for catfish
Bad for people, the flooding is excellent for the omnivorous catfish, giving them newly inundated areas in the willows and cottonwoods to prowl for minnows, crawdads, crickets and even — for the bigger ones — snakes, turtles and muskrats.

Interactive map Rampaging rivers Click to see latest developments on Midwest flooding and historical flooding data.

If you have traveled anywhere along the Mississippi River and not eaten catfish, well, sorry, but you have not really been here. Deep-fried, pan-fried, baked, steamed, poached and grilled, its firm, white flesh is one of the main food groups in these parts. It’s on most every menu, in po’boys, served as breaded fish fingers or whole — a golden brown meal that sticks off both ends of the plate.

“Lots of people here eat a lot of catfish,” Dockery says.

He says the river cats he catches are better quality than the farm-raised varieties locals can buy in the market. At $3 a pound, his price is better, too. Some of his customers “have limited budgets, and this is a good source of protein for them,” he says.

With orders to fill from retail customers of his small commercial fishing enterprise, including one for 35 pounds from a nearby church, Dockery, helped by Redd, set out seven trotlines — strong lines floated horizontally on the water’s surface and dangling baited hooks — late Tuesday afternoon. Now, about 12 hours later, they are back to pull them out.

Dockery uses a flooded section of Highway 79 north of Clarksville as his launching ramp. The boat easily slips over the railroad tracks, two feet below the surface now, past a row of nearly submerged mailboxes that mock the letter carrier’s neither-nor motto and out into the main river.

Five minutes of open-throttle running takes him past a raft of 16 giant barges tied to the shore and ordered not to move by the Coast Guard until the flooding recedes, a stark reminder of the drama that is playing out upriver and down.

MORE FROM MIDWEST FLOODING

Midwest flooding Section Front

Midwest's flood areas consider buyouts Experts: Flood terms mislead public Mississippi nears crest in St. Louis Losses sink in as Midwest flooding ebbs Newsweek: Cleaning up from a disaster After the flood: Smelly sandbags remain Corn farmers' hopes dashed by the flood Flood victims: FEMA doing heckuva job Residents keep fighting rising Mississippi Inventor claims a better sandbag Midwest flooding Section Front   Add Midwest flooding headlines to your news reader: