LITTLE ROCK - Of the three species of catfish in Arkansas, the flathead may rank at the top, at least in fishermen's interest.

  Flatheads aren't the most numerous. Channel catfish hold the lead there. Flatheads aren't the largest since the blue catfish state record is considerably heavier than the flathead record.

  But flatheads are more difficult to catch, many anglers believe. Others like them for their table quality.

  Like many Arkansas fish, flatheads are known by other names here and there - Opelousas cat, Appaloosa cat, yellow cat, and shovelhead. Three distinguishing features are the head that gives the fish its name, a square instead of forked tail and a mottled yellowish-brown color in contrast to the bluish gray color of the blue catfish and the dark spots that denote the channel catfish.

  Flatheads are native to Arkansas, primarily the larger river systems. Anglers in the state use three methods to catch them. One is with rod and reel or pole, and the advice is to use heavy line. A flathead of even modest size can put up a stiff battle when hooked. Trotline fishing and jug fishing are used also and so is snagging. The third method is one that eliminates many anglers right off the bat. This is hogging, meaning going after the fish with bare hands, or noodling, using bare hands and a snare underwater.

  Most Arkansas flatheads are found in flowing water - but this is not an absolute. Lake Conway, for instance, has produced big flatheads for nearly 60 years. Flathead fishermen often look for submerged wood like logs and root wads as likely spots for their quarry. If these objects are close to flowing water, chances of finding a flathead may improve.

  Flatheads also are usually taken on live bait - but, again, this is not always the case. Many anglers seeking flatheads bait up with small bream including "ricefield slicks," more formally known as green sunfish. Gizzard shad in bigger sizes are frequently used for flathead work.

  Many flathead anglers follow the axiom of "big bait for big fish." Add hook to the suggestion. Use large, strong hooks for flatheads, and pick out a good-sized bream or a big shad for the bait. The weight should be heavy enough to get the bait and hook to the bottom of the water quickly.

  Like other forms of catfishing, patience is an asset. Flatheads feed by both sight and smell, and fishermen usually toss out the baited hook, let it sink to the bottom and wait. Bobbers are used, and so is the tight-lining method. When the line begins to move, the fisherman waits. Catfish of all species have a habit of moving off with the bait in their mouths for several feet, sometimes many feet, before stopping to swallow it.

  The general rule is to let the fish take the bait with an open reel. Then when the movement stops, close the reel and set the hook hard.

  Daily limit for catfish set by the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission is ten. This is for any species or a combination of species. A few waters in the state have more generous daily limits but for channel and blue catfish, not flatheads.

  The state record for flathead catfish is 80 pounds, set in 1989 with an Arkansas River fish by Wesley White of Hartford. The world record is 123 pounds, set in Kansas in 1998.

  Planning a trip to Arkansas? Find out about their great outdoor adventures on their web site at www.agfc.com.

  Camping in the great outdoors...no phones, TVs, traffic, 9-5 grind...a wonderful opportunity to slow down and enjoy nature. Unfortunately, layers of insect repellent, sunscreen, campfire smoke, and sweat leave one feeling anything but relaxed by the end of the day.

  Sponging off with soap and a pan of water may be ok for a night or two, but there's nothing like taking a shower when you're camping. Although 'city folks' may cringe at the thought of a public shower house, I've seen some of the most steadfast souls buckle under a couple days of camping funk.

  Beware of tinea pedis as you plan your trip to the shower house!

  There are threats you cannot see, namely, plant-like microorganisms that flourish in the warm, humid environment. Whether the floor is discolored and feels slick and slimy to your feet or whether it looks as clean as your shower at home, there could be a great risk of contracting a nasty case of tinea pedis. Tinea pedis, or athlete's foot, is a common skin infection caused by a fungus.

  The fungus is primarily contacted by walking barefoot on warm, damp surfaces where it lives, by drying with damp towels that are contaminated with it, or by sharing footwear with someone infected. The fungus depends on dead tissue for nutrition and growth and needs a warm, moist environment to thrive. The area under and between the toes is most preferred.

  So how do you know if you contract it? The first sign is usually an itch that quickly turns to a burn if you scratch or rub it. On further inspection you may note cracked, blistered, or peeling areas between the toes. The skin may look unusually white or "cheesy" and have an unpleasant odor. Redness and scaling on the soles of the feet may also be present. The itch can be maddening at times.

  First off, try not to scratch. If you happen to scratch your toes and inadvertently scratch other warm, moist areas like an armpit or your groin, you could really be in misery later. Secondly, realize this fungus is highly contagious. Don't share towels or footwear. Keep socks on when walking through the house to prevent spreading the microorganism.

  Wash your feet thoroughly with soap and water at least every day. Take care to dry between your toes well. Keep your feet dry and your shoes off as much as possible, the fungus can't easily grow in dry, open air. There are many products available without a prescription, ask your Pharmacist to recommend a spray, powder or cream. If you don't see rapid improvement in about a week, call your doctor. You may need to take some medicine by mouth.

  You can reduce or eliminate your chance of contracting a fungus during your next Backwoods Adventure. Don't go barefoot in the shower house, wear shower shoes or rubber sandals. Dry your feet well before putting on shoes and socks. Keep an extra pair of shoes along so you can alternate if one pair gets wet.

  By taking simple precautions, you can avoid picking up a fungus while you take advantage of the opportunity to scrub off the layers of dirt that seem to build up so quickly when you're having fun in the outdoors. As you know, there's nothing like relaxing and shooting the bull around the campfire when you've had a good wash! Until next time...Maggie Burns

  I saw an old friend at a social function last night and during the conversation he mentioned that he’d considered doing some guided hunts on the 800 acres behind his house. He asked if I thought that it would be a good idea or would fit his situation. I responded that maybe I’d just tell him about my weekend and he could decide from that.

  I had a 15-year-old kid coming to turkey hunt. He’d been two other places but never could get a bird and his dad was trying one more time to make it happen. Give the dad a pat on the back; he’s a good example. Dad was going to go along on the hunts as an observer only and that’s fine with all of us. We’d done some scouting but we have so many birds and so little pressure that it’s usually pretty easy to kill a turkey if you just act like you got some sense and listen to the guides.

  First morning out, guide has several birds working at the same time. He locks in on one that refuses to come in. So the guide moves up on the turkey. Turkey still won’t come in, probably with hens but triple gobbling. So they move up again. Turkey is still answering, the kid is set up with his twelve-gauge Citori on his knees, and he can barely hold it up. Guide gives the set up one more look and sees the dad lying on his side with his head propped on a tree. Guide asks if he wants to sit up and watch the show and the dad says he thinks he’s having a heart attack. Guide runs the half-mile to the truck, no cell-phone service where he is, pounds his company truck up to the ailing observer, physically loads him into the passenger side and races to the lodge! I’m in the middle of cooking breakfast for the gang when they sail into the yard. Transfer the heart-attack victim into my truck, leave the guide to turn off all the stove functions, and run four red lights getting him to the emergency room at the local hospital. One hour later he still hadn’t been seen or evaluated by a practitioner so I announce to the staff that their lack of concern has given me cause to evacuate my client and go to the competitor three blocks away!

  New ER sees the patient in a reasonable period of time. Blood test, urinalysis, EEG and who knows what else is ran. I’m busy consoling his anxious son, discussing progress with his wife and daughter 180 miles away. The guide and I discuss for the fifteenth time his symptoms and possible prognosis. Finally, four hours into our little ordeal a physician decides that he has an “inner ear problem.” No big deal, take some pills.

  I fill the two prescriptions for the client; get him a hamburger and coke, deliver him back to the lodge where he’ll spend the rest of his hunt on the couch. I take the kid hunting to salvage what’s left of the afternoon.

  Kid walks like an elephant. He forgot his hunting boots at home so he’s wearing his dad’s brand-new snake-proof knee boots. He can’t pick them up so he drags his feet. And they are cutting blisters. We walk up on five jakes on the way to a food plot but somehow they don’t spook! Still they are not candidates for calling so we proceed to the plot. I peek over a rise and see a gobbler head sticking above the wheat. I tell the kid that we have a good bird 30 yards away. He asks in a normal voice if I think we can call him in. Not now! We set up anyway at the base of a beech tree that God must have put there for turkey hunters because it was perfect for the plot and the kid dutifully kicked all the sticks and leaves from under his feet “so he wouldn’t make any noise later”. I pointed out the two boss gobblers leaving the other end of the plot, way out of range, and mentioned that he’d better get a good look because that’s what a turkey looks like when you won’t be able to call him up!

  Next morning my best guide was back in the same spot with the kid. Turkey gobbles on a limb real close! Guide yelps and the turkey flies to another limb even closer. Still too dark to see or shoot. Kid lets the Citori fall off his knee and hit the ground. Turkey flies down to another food plot, two zip codes away.

  Guide sets up on another turkey. Turkey is closing the distance fast; hunters are behind a log pile, perfect set up. Turkey gets almost close enough to shoot and turns to leave. Guide looks at kid. Kid is yawning and stretching with his arms straight over his head! Guide returns kid to camp, giving me “that look” when he comes in the door. Of course, dad, who has missed all the fun, wants a full report of all the action. The version he got was considerably different from the one I got!

  I take the kid myself on a mid-day hunt. I’m carrying the Citori because it’s too heavy for him. Also the kid has a tendency to walk around with shells in the chamber and pointing at everything indiscriminately! I jump across a narrow mud hole at the bottom of a gully. He doesn’t. He leaves a tennis shoe barely visible in the mud. I retrieve the shoe. He throws a tantrum, starts breaking limbs, cane and whatever else he can get his hands on. Kid couldn’t sneak up on a glass of water at this point. I abandon the hunt, but he doesn’t know it.

  Deliver kid back to camp, give dad a rosy report about all the great things that Junior is learning and hand him off to another guide. Mommy has been summoned to drive dad and son back home since dad still has equilibrium problems. They will be departing at 4:00 p.m. sharp! Guide has one hour to pull the rabbit out of the hat! They tear out of the yard and go to a farm we haven’t hunted at all this season! A matched pair of gobblers comes in. Kid is hid behind a camo net so his movements can’t be seen, and at 4:20 p.m. he kills a twelve-inch bird with 1 1/8 inch spurs. Kid is a hero to dad, dad is a hero to kid, they’re gonna full-body mount the bird and nobody on our crew got a tip!

  For some reason, my old friend decided that guided hunts didn’t fit his situation.

  Charlie Provost is owner of Provost Adventures offering various types of hunts in Texas, New Mexico, Louisiana, Mississippi and Old Mexico. Visit his site at www.provostadventures.com for more details on all of their adventures.

  The stories all of you write remind me so much of growing up in small-town south Texas. I may only be 24 now, and living in a city, but I still live for those times I get to go out and get dirty in the country. Last year, my husband and I welcomed our first daughter into the world, and I can't wait until she's 7 and I can get her her first Daisy BB gun. My parents did that with me and my brothers, and by God I'm doing it with her. I already spend as much time outside with her as possible, as I am not a big fan of letting kids sit and stare at the tube all day and night.

  When I finished David's story about Tippy (http://www.backwoodsbound.com/ytippy.html), it brought me to tears. I remember our lab, Beau, who was (in our minds) the best hunting dog known to man. All we had to do was think about going hunting and he'd jump in the bed of the truck, ready to go. He loved going in the tanks to retrieve anything, even diving to bring back rocks. As he grew older it became harder for him to do a lot of the things he loved to do, and in the end we had to lift him into the horse trailer to get him to the vet. He was too big for us to get into the truck and too weak to get there on his own.

  Beau was 17 when we had to put him down. I know what it is to have an amazing dog, whether they hunt or are just a good pet. Thank you for all the good stories that bring me back to when I was a kid (even if it wasn't all that long ago), and know that there are still people out there that were raised more like our parents than like the lazy kids of today. – Sara Jones