Butch Remembers Fun at the Gravel Pits

There were no large creeks near our farm when I was growing up in the 1950s and ’60s, although there were a few small streams here and there. Sugar Creek, the largest stream in our county, was about five miles away. An aunt and uncle, who lived across the road, had a small man-made pond where I fished on occasion, but I never had much luck catching any “keepers.” However, just a couple of miles away were two gravel pits . . . one owned by Cecil Needham and the other owned by Jim and Mary Horn. I would dig up some worms, grab my pole, tackle box, and a bucket and ride my old bike to both places during the summer months. When I got a Cushman motor scooter at age 13, I arrived in no time!

   Both gravel pits were spring fed and fairly clean. They were about 35-40 yards across, with high banks completely around the water. Since I couldn’t swim a lick, I had to be careful not to slip at the edges and fall into the water. I used a bamboo pole for a couple of years until I received a new Zebco fishing pole with a reel for Christmas one year. I placed a worm on the hook, spit on it for good luck (can’t remember who told me to do that) and watched the bobber move up and down . . . until I had one! I had good luck catching sunnies and bluegill at both places, throwing the small ones, along with the “shiners,” back into the water and placing the larger ones in a small bucket. One afternoon at Horn’s gravel pit, I ran out of worms, but still caught several fish just using a hook!

  Of course, I didn’t spend all of my time fishing. I found flat shaped rocks and tried to see how many times I could skip those across. I threw larger stones and watched them “plop” in the water. I tried to catch frogs to take home as pets, but only managed to catch two in all the years. One time I caught a snapping turtle, which I thought would be wonderful to take home, but it had swallowed the hook, and I had to cut my line to set it free. Sometimes I took my homemade wooden boats and floated those on the water. One afternoon I took my Daisy B-B rifle and shot into the water or at objects on the other side. There were cows grazing in the pasture at Horn’s gravel pit that day, and I am sorry to say I pinged a few of them in the rear quarters . . . OOPS! The gravel pit had all types of rocks along the bank that I could collect and I especially enjoyed finding fossils.

  Most of the time I took a sack lunch . . . usually a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and ate it while taking a break. It was nice just to sit there, look out across the pond, gaze up at the clouds drifting by, and enjoy nature. Soon it was time to head home with my catch and begin the not-so-enjoyable task of cleaning the fish for eating. My hands smelled like fish the remainder of the evening, and not even Lava soap could get it off. Those carefree days of visiting the local gravel pits, fishing and just having fun will always be great memories for this Indiana farm boy.

John “Butch” Dale is a retired teacher and County Sheriff. He has also been the librarian at Darlington the past 37 years, and is a well-known artist and author of local history.