Let’s start with the disclosure: I am not a fisherman. I grew up, frankly, loathing the sport.
Here’s why: It was a requirement of my late father’s that the number one son accompany him as he walked local rivers in pursuit of catfish with a cane pole.
Catfish are disgusting. Walking a river when it’s 145 in the shade is awful.
So, imagine my surprise to actually enjoy a couple of hours on a bass boat Wednesday at Flint Oak. See the enclosed:
We were there doing a piece on the possibility of housing at the southeast Kansas outdoor resort.