Boomer Winfrey 

Varmint County Correspondent

Spring has finally arrived here in Varmint County with all the usual signs. The Haigs are scarcely seen around town these days, as most of them are up in the hollows cooking up the latest version of “spring run” corn liquor. Likewise, the baseball team of Coach B. O. Snodgrass has finally put away their squirrel rifles and started reporting for practice after school instead of taking off for the woods.

A trickle of tourists are beginning to show up out at Mud Lake, mostly the early birds who are desperate to leave their chilly northern cities behind and take advantage of off-season rental rates. Those early arrivals also get treated to an event unique to Varmint County – the Annual Mud Lake Carp Festival and Anything Goes Fishing Tournament.

Ike Pinetar came up with the idea about six years ago, when one of the boat dealers from over in Burrville tried to sponsor a bass tournament out of Mud Lake Marina. 

Only a handful of teams showed up, and their pitiful haul ensured that the Burrville Marine Center would not be back for another tournament any time soon.

“This lake is one of the worst bass lakes I’ve ever seen,” Bassmaster pro Hugo “Lucky Strike” Hodgkins complained. “About the only thing it’s good for is fishing for carp.”

Ike didn’t bother to enlighten the tournament folks that in early spring, most of the bass, crappie and other game fish migrated to the upper end of the lake, upstream of the creeks running in from Haig Hollow and the Hockmeyer lands around Stinking Creek and McCracken’s Neck.

These streams, of course, register somewhere between 40 and 50 proof from the outflow and spillage running off the numerous whiskey stills in the county. The only fish that can survive for long under such conditions are the bottom-feeding carp, which seem to have developed not only a tolerance, but a preference for elevated alcohol levels.

The state wildlife folks tried to cite the Haigs and other moonshining clans for water pollution a few years back, but then old Elijah Haig negotiated that secret contract with the U. S. Air Force to produce spring run as a jet fuel additive, and the wildlife agency and EPA mysteriously dropped their objections.

Anyway, to make a long story short, when that bass pro made the comment about the lake being good only for carp, a light went on in Ike Pinetar’s head.

 The next year, Mud Lake Marina sponsored the region’s only carp fishing tournament and later expanded it into a full-blown festival with competing chefs, carp races, peddlers hawking carp-skin boots and belts and, of course, the “Anything Goes” fishing tournament.

This year’s edition is typical of the sort of fun activities available for young and old. The tournament is divided into several divisions, including rod & reel, bow fishing and spear fishing. The “Unlimited” division includes carp harvested by shotgun, dynamite and blunt force trauma, that is, clubbed into submission by baseball bat-wielding anglers chasing the fish in shallow creeks while they attempt to spawn.

Some of the finest seafood chefs in five states gather at the County Fairgrounds for the “festival” part of the activities. They all compete to see who can come up with the most original recipes to make the lowly carp, if not tasty, at least edible to some degree. 

Typical of some of the demonstrations was the cooking class offered by Chez Filloux Haig, one of Elijah’s Cajun cousins who travels up every year from the Louisiana bayous for the Carp Festival.

“For my recipe, you must first cut a board of fresh wood, preferably a soft variety such as mountain ash or sycamore. Avoid evergreens as the resin tends to harden during cooking.

“Now, prepare the carp by removing intestines and head, but leave the skin intact to trap the juices. Rub in paprika liberally, prepare a marinade of shredded fresh ginger, cumin, sage and melted butter, and mix in a small amount of red wine. Soak the fish for about 20 minutes and then nail the carp to the wooden board.

“Place the carp and board in the oven at low heat and bake for four hours, removing each hour to replenish the marinade. After four hours, pour a quarter cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice over the carp, turn the heat up to 425 degrees and bake for 20 additional minutes to crisp the skin.”

“You are now ready to sample your masterpiece,” Chez Filloux announced. “Remove the carp and board from the oven, remove the carp from the board and discard in the trash. The board, by now, should be tender enough to slice and enjoy with bread and butter.”

“You mean the carp, don’t you? Throw the board away and slice the fish?” Aunt Gertie Pennywell asked.

“No, Madame. Discard the carp and eat the board. That is the best method for preparing carp of which I am aware.”

This demonstration is always greeted by a chorus of hoots and guffaws, but actually Chez Filloux and the other various cooks have some original methods for preparing carp that aren’t half bad. Well, actually they’re all pretty bad. Any way you cut it, carp is not gourmet dining, whether you remove the so-called mud streak, leave it in or simply eat the board, but it’s all in good fun.

Fortunately, the festival includes various seafood dishes that don’t involve carp, such as pan-fried trout, catfish nuggets and Chez Filloux’s real specialties, crawfish e’toufee and seafood gumbo.

Filloux brought some alligator steaks one year but out of deference to his cousin Elijah, no longer offers gator tail a’bayou. This is because Elijah is a mite touchy over the subject of eating alligator, considering what happened at the very first carp festival several years ago.

This was before the organizers decided to divide the tournament competition into different divisions. Instead, the “anything goes” rule was in general effect, and the tournament winner was the person who brought in the greatest poundage of carp, period, regardless of method. The Asbury boys, Hoot and QV seemed to have first place locked up after they discovered a mass migration of carp shoaling at the mouth of Stinking Creek, inching upstream in the shallows to a good spawning spot.

Q.V. and Hoot leaped from their boat, wielding a baseball bat and a small sledge hammer, and bludgeoned over 200 carp during 45 minutes of carnage. It took them three trips to the marina to haul their catch, over a half ton of bloody fish, to the scales.

Andy Perkins and “Tuck” McNew were just about to weigh in over 600 pounds of fish they had collected at the head of Whiskey Creek, fittingly named since it drains Haig Hollow. The boys were sure that their catch, taken by a combination of trotlines and blasting carp in the shallows with a 12-gauge shotgun, would win the day when the Asburys came in with their first boatload and announced they had two more to come.

Andy and Tuck desperately motored back to Whiskey Creek to attempt to add to their haul. There they tossed half a dozen sticks of dynamite into the water and waited for the carp to float to the surface.

“Gawd, that’s the biggest carp I ever seen,” Tuck exclaimed as the grandfather of all carp floated to the surface after the dynamite exploded, throwing a geyser of muddy water into the air.

“That’s funny, that carp’s got legs!” Andy observed. “That ain’t no carp, it looks more like an alligator.”

“There’s only one alligator in Varmint County, Tuck. That’s Old Gnash, Elijah Haig’s pet gator.”

“Sure ‘nuff, that’s a gator but it can’t be Old Gnash, Elijah keeps him penned up in a pond up in Haig Hollow,” Tuck McNew insisted.

“It is Old Gnash. I recognize that scar on his head!

“That was where Tobe Murphy ran over him with an outboard motor that time he got loose in the lake,” Andy Perkins insisted. “Elijah thought about shooting Tobe but just shot his boat full of holes instead, seein’ as how the gator survived.”

“Well, he’s a goner this time, and we done it with dynamite. We’re both as good as dead,” Tuck moaned. 

As it turned out, the dead gator was Old Gnash, who had escaped his pen a couple of days earlier, drawn toward the lake after the spawning carp that had begun to wiggle their way upstream. But Gnash wasn’t killed by the dynamite blast. Doc Filstrup performed the autopsy and declared that the ancient alligator had died from overeating, having feasted on carp until he busted his gut.

“The old gator got constipated and couldn’t get rid of all that carp but he just kept on eating. I guess he was just having too much fun to stop,” Doc told a tearful Elijah. That news would have been a great relief to Tuck and Andy, but they were no longer around, having both high-tailed it out of the county and enlisted in the U. S. Army.

At least Old Gnash received a decent burial, complete with a concrete monument. The tons of carp harvested at each year’s festival receive a less glamorous end. 

Faber’s Fertilizer Company brings in enough 18-wheelers to haul everything off to their processing plant and the proceeds are donated to various charities.