Okie Noodling

An interesting sport is that of catfish noodling. I watched a PBS documentary on it (Okie Noodling) that we rented from Netflix, which makes me an expert. Let me enlighten you. Okie Noodling is a sport whereby fishermen catch catfish with their bare hands. The hands are the hook, and the line. They get into knee-deep water, wiggle their fingers in front of a catfish hole and wait for the catfish to come nibble, then they grab the catfish (sometimes 40 or 50 lbs) with their hands and haul them out of the water. It's considered very dangerous and is only legal in four states (Oklahoma is one of them).

Here's a summary and first-hand account from a "Field Story" published by Cabela's:

The person doing the noodling wades into a body of water where catfish are known to lurk, then reaches underwater and starts feeling for holes in the bank, in logs, under rocks and so forth. Catfish get in holes like this when spawning. Female catfish lay their eggs, then a male cat moves in to guard the eggs. The noodler feels for these holes because he knows when he reaches in, if a cat is on guard, it'll bite him. Then he can grab the fish--maybe--and pull it out.

The deal is, the noodler never knows for sure what's in the hole he's probing. It might be a catfish. Then again, it might be a snapping turtle, a beaver or a snake. Mr. Noodler's down there holding his breath, getting all tingly with excitement, while he thrusts his hands in dark underwater hidey-holes to see if anybody's home. He loves this stuff. He thrives on the adrenaline rush it affords. Some guys get their thrills driving race cars, or skydiving, or mountain climbing. Others get their kicks noodling.

If Mr. Noodler finds a hole empty, he moves on and finds another hole to noodle in. If somebody is home, well ... that's where things can get interesting. I learned this first-hand when I went on my first noodling excursion. Now, I know what you're thinking. This numbskull just said the stupidest thing he'd ever seen was a guy noodling for catfish. Now he's telling us he went noodling. Who's the stupid one?

Well, granted, you have to be two McNuggets short of a Happy Meal to try this stuff, but for the sake of journalistic integrity, I felt it was my duty to participate--at least once--so I could write a realistic account. And so, one day I found myself taking a deep breath, diving underwater in a lake and reaching into a dark hole while several noodling enthusiasts cheered me on topside. A catfish was home. And when I realized it was indeed a catfish--not some critter that might bite off my fingers--I was, at least initially, happy. The catfish, however, was not pleased with my intrusion. Rather than wait for me to catch him, he decided to scram--full speed ahead. He rocketed from the hole and slammed into my chest like a tiny torpedo--all five pounds of him. I surfaced like a whale, blowing water six feet high, then leaped onto the bank and told my laughing companions that my hand-in-holes research was done.