Thanksgiving Drum

Jordan Batson with a black drum

"I'm going to the beach for Thanksgiving. You're welcome to join me there if you like," is pretty much what I told my family this year. And I have to say that my doing such worked out well. So much in fact that I think my trip to the coast will be a new holiday tradition.

I started thinking about foregoing staying in Fredericksburg for the holidays back in July while enjoying South Padre Island. My wife Cheryl began making a list of who we could host for Thanksgiving, who we could go see, whose schedule we could work around, and so on and so on through the spiraling pain that is planning for the holidays. I took a long pull on my fresh from the ice chest beer, stared out at the rolling blue water and declared that I wanted to come back to the beach for Thanksgiving. Cheryl gave the idea some thought, we discussed the matter then eventually decided that we would host Thanksgiving at the beach. Although I wanted to do such at South Padre Island, Cheryl rightly decided that Port Aransas was a better bet as it was closer for all involved. We put the invite out to our four children in August, and our son Barrett and daughter Megan replied they were in.

Half a family is better than no family, I guess.

I asked Barrett and son-in-law Jordan Batson (Technically I think he's my step son-in-law. I'm not sure. Mapping out a mixed family is difficult.) if they wanted a day of fishing during our time down south. Barrett said that’d be great. Jordan said he was interested then admitted that he’d never been fishing before. I took this information to my almost guide on retainer of over 20 years Captain Donny. The good captain was recovering from emergency triple bypass surgery (This condition had nothing to do with my fishing with Donny several times a year for over two decades…I think. Ok, I might have stressed him considerably during that time which led to his ailment.) but said he’d be up to a trip by Thanksgiving.

The three of us met the good captain at Conn Brown Harbor in Aransas Pass early on the Monday before Turkey Day and climbed into his custom-built by Diamondback Airboat. This bad boy is 25 feet in length, features carbon fiber blades, and is accentuated in Barney the Dinosaur purple paint. Yeah, that latter specification doesn’t really fit with the others in my opinion but to each his own I suppose. Donny got Barrett, Jordan, and me situated and outfitted with ear protection, brought the almost 600 hp engine to life then rocketed us across Redfish Bay and into the marsh islands that sit under the watch of Lydia Ann Lighthouse.

We each grabbed an 8-foot rod spooled with 20-pound test braided line, baited the #4 circle hooks with a strip of Fishbites E-Z Shrimp bait and tossed them into the drink. First-time angler Jordan was the first to get a strike and he – with some very vocal instruction and critique from Capt. Donny - quickly reeled in a black drum that just made the 14-inch minimum requirement. I followed with an undersized redfish that was quickly tossed back. When Barrett pulled in a nasty looking dogfish, Capt. Donny declared the area dead and we boated to another hole in the marsh, this one just over three inches deep. Jordan’s beginner luck continued and he quickly landed a 17-inch drum. I followed with a 19-inch drum and Jordan with an 18. Once again, Barrett’s catch proved to be the end of the hole when he pulled in a hardhead catfish that weighed just over 2 pounds. We moved again and this time landed two stingray, several hardhead cats, and many more drum. With that hole played out we jumped to another then another until the three of us had our limit of 15 drum. I won the day with the largest fish which measured 24 inches in length. Barrett and Jordan tied with their best catch each measuring 22 inches.

Back at the dock, those fish produced a solid 9 pounds of filets, half of which were turned into tacos that night. Jordan’s wife Megan and daughter Brynn were impressed with their father’s new he-man-fish-catching abilities and declared the filets some of the best they’d ever eaten. I mumbled to Cheryl that they ought to be as they cost roughly $100 a pound. My wife gave me a look and I quickly agreed that they were well worth the cost for the great day we’d all had.

This piece first appeared in the Fredericksburg Standard.

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