A general rule I’ve observed is that when you spend a day bowfishing and it’s a complete bust, the next time you go out usually makes up for it. It’s often a day when you just crush it. I’m not sure what governs this rule, but it’s real. It’s a thing.
Today was one such day.
Everything aligned for me to get an early start today, and I just knew it was going to be a great day. My plan was to head back to the reservoir where I’d been skunked on June 23rd of this year. I saw plenty of carp that week, but never connected. I wasn’t looking forward to the long drive, but it had to be done. I wasn’t going to let that reservoir beat me.
After grabbing a sandwich at Subway at around 8:30am (yes, they were open), I ate a very early lunch as I drove so I didn’t have to waste time eating on the water.
I hit the reservoir at around 9:15am, and very nearly had the place to myself, which was surprising. I was already in a good mood, but now it was even better.
Stopping in a small cove, I saw some fish eating at the surface and ended up catching a couple very nice smallmouths with my rod.
But I saw several big carp mulling around and couldn’t ignore them, so I grabbed my bow.
I shot at a handful of them but didn’t connect. But about 15 minutes later I noticed a carp swimming into the shallow water weeds. The fish was either injured or was having major health issues.
A thought crossed my mind: “Did my arrow puncture the fish but my carp point didn’t penetrate far enough?”
I immediately went back to my vehicle and screwed on a brand new carp point. The one I’d been using was several outings old and no longer sharp.
The carp in the area had spooked so I kept driving.
I reached another cove where I’d seen carp the last time I was here, but never bowfished there because the embankment was too steep.
This time, I looked down and saw more congregating carp than any other time I’ve been bowfishing.
Pictures never do fish justice, but here’s a picture.
See the embankment on the opposite side? Yeah, steep as hell.
It probably goes without saying that I figured out a way to get down to the shoreline. I wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity.
It paid off.
Just ten or so minutes later I shot my first carp of the day, and it was a beauty.
In the below picture of the fish, you can literally see refraction in action. Notice the back half of the arrow coming out of the water, and how it seems like it’d have to bend to reach the wound entry point.
Over the ensuing couple of hours, I shot several more big carp, all of a similar size to this one. Here are a few pictures of two headshots.
Here’s something I noticed: when I’d get a carp up to the shoreline where it would start splashing, other carp seemed drawn to the commotion. Maybe they were looking to spawn?
Another thing I noticed was that I saw far more carp while I was crouching rather than standing. This isn’t all that surprising, but it was very noticeable today. I’m convinced that carp have very good eyesight.
At one point a boat worked its way into the mouth of the narrow cove. They were spinfishing for smallmouth and had turned on their trolling motor.
The two guys saw me, but they kept getting closer. I thought surely they were about to spin around and work the shoreline going the opposite direction.
I was wrong.
They trolled right through the area I was bowfishing in. I stood there watching them. The driver asked if I was getting anything.
I said flatly, “Not since you showed up.”
He sheepishly said he’d just pass by and fish the back end of the cove. The other guy asked about the biggest fish I’d shot with an arrow today, and I was cordial with him.
Fishing etiquette is becoming rare. These types of anglers are either clueless, or they just don’t care. These particular guys were clueless.
Once several minutes had passed, the carp started to get back into their routines.
Suddenly, I saw a beast of a carp swimming towards my position. I remained crouched and motionless, and then drew my arrow back, half stood up, and took the shot.
Got ‘em!
I’d been focusing on a nice, slow release today. In bowfishing, I think it’s easy to rush a release in the heat of the moment. It’s probably the same for bowhunters.
My carp made a long, deep moon-shaped run as my Muzzy tournament reel’s drag system screamed. The fish then jumped halfway out of the water, making a huge commotion. It looked like a tarpon splashing at the surface.
I didn’t want to lose this fish—it was a big dude.
Eventually I landed the fish after playing it carefully by hand. Here are a couple pictures.
The fisherman duo used this opportunity to quickly sneak back out into the main reservoir. They’d clearly been waiting for a chance to bolt but didn’t want to cause a commotion and spook my fish again. At least they learned.
After several hours patrolling the steep, rocky shoreline I was ready to explore a new area and drove a couple miles to a spot with a very long sandy beach where I had just spotted some carp. During high water, this beach is under several feet of water.
I made my way down through the thick brush to the water which was around 100 yards away.
It was there that I got several more shots at big carp, and landed several of them. There were three big catfish mulling the shallows too, but they’re not legal to shoot.
It was a spectacular day bowfishing! It made up for last week in a big way.
The most important lesson I learned today was how vital a sharp arrow point is when bowfishing. Once it’s no longer sharp enough to pierce my finger, I’m going to toss it.
