This past March was a difficult time for us in Region 9.  The weather was still cool and the tides were extremely low.  Hunting season was over, but the fish had not really turned on yet.  We really had to scratch to make any cases.  It was on one of these March days that I was assigned to work with Lt. Sammy Martin.  The main target of today’s patrol; “bucket fishermen”.  For those who are unfamiliar, “bucket fishermen” are the guys you see sitting on the side of the bayou, typically on a five-gallon bucket, fishing.  Region 9 is over run with “bucket fishermen”.  Lt. Martin and I worked all day and checked about fifty or so fishermen; nothing!  Everyone had license and no one was catching fish.  This particular day was a Sunday, one that we had to go to the office for our district meeting.  On the way to the office, we decided to make one more stop.  We went to a levee that ran behind several neighborhoods.  When we got to the spot where people usually fish, we noticed a small red Mazda sedan parked there.  This was a good sign because at least we knew that someone was there.  Lt. Martin and I got onto the levee and walked about a half-mile.  We finally saw two little girls playing on the levee.  As we got closer, we noticed that the girls had not seen us.  We heard one of the girls ask someone at the bottom of the levee if they were ready to go yet.  We then made our presence known and identified ourselves to the people at the bottom of the levee.

 They turned out to be a family of five.  Mom, Dad, two sisters and a little boy about four years old.  Lt. Martin and I looked at each other as if to say, “This is going to be a waste of time.”  Since we were there, we went through the motions.  “Hello, are you having any luck?”  “May we please see your license?”  “Well, thank you.”  “Have a nice day.”  Before we could leave, the little boy found enough courage to speak to us.  We didn’t have to be anywhere, so we took a little time to be “officer friendly”.  I started playing a little with the boy.  I asked him if he was having a good time and he said that he was.  I asked him if he could fish by himself and he told me that he could.  He then informed me that, “We got a bunch of fish!” and I asked, “You do?”  I thought that he was talking about pretend fish.  That was until we saw the look on Mom and Dad’s faces.  Then I said to the little boy, “I don’t believe you got any fish.”  He said, “Yes, we got fish.” “We got them in the ice chest!”  The only ice chest that we could see was one of those just big enough to hold a six pack of drinks.  I told the boy, “You don’t have any fish in that ice chest.”  “No.” he said, “The one in the weeds.”  At that point, he took Lt. Martin by the hand and said, “Come see.”  Sure enough, in some nearby weeds, he showed us an ice chest full of undersize Black Drum.  Mom and Dad were speechless.  They, of course, then had to take responsibility for the illegal fish.  The little boy proudly helped Lt. Martin and myself count and measure the fish.  The agents here got a good laugh out of this, and I hope that our readers will too!