Every year towards the end of summer, Milford Lake becomes swamped with anglers testing their luck at trying to catch an elusive hybrid. A hybrid is a type of fish that is common in freshwater lakes. It is a mix between a white bass and a striper. They can grow anywhere from  2-25 pounds.

Every year in the late summer and throughout the fall, my family fishes for hybrids. I have caught a plethora of fish at Milford Lake, but the hybrid is the hardest and most challenging fish I have laid my sights on. There have been many successes and mishaps in my times of fishing, but the most memorable isn’t the catch, it is the one that got away. The story of “the monster” haunts me to this day.

It was a cold October morning when my dad said we were going fishing. The boat ride to our exclusive spot is a fifteen minute drive with the wind whipping through our clothes. My eyes begin to water from the icy wind’s touch as our white boat glides across the water like a bullet.

When we reach our spot, the sun is nowhere to be seen hiding behind the horizon. The water around us erupts as hybrids and birds trap the shad at the surface of the water. During this time, hybrids only have one objective on their mind, they are worried about getting the tiny delicacy to eat. They don’t even notice our raft as they bust out of the water like a dolphin trying to engulf the little evaders. The sound of hand-sized tails slapping the water fills the air as my adrenaline begins to pump. I can see little fish jump out of the water as the hybrids swallow them whole.

We grab our poles faster than we ever have before. My weapon of choice is the four inch chug bug many anglers use. I throw it into the middle of the feeding frenzy and hope luck is on my side. As soon as it hits the water, it gets swallowed up like a pill. The fight is on. The tip of my pole almost touches the water as the hybrid begins to fight. I reel slowly giving the fish ample tension so it doesn’t snap the line. The hybrid jumps out of the water, the big tail slapping at the water as it reenters the murky blue lake. When I get it to the boat, the real challenge begins. The hybrid sees the boat and darts away with all the force in its body. My dad grabs the net and and pulls him into the boat. This is a great fish, but not the one we are looking for.
The sun is just now beginning to rise up over the horizon, causing an ominous glow of red and orange colors glistening off the blue water. The swallows begin to sing from the tree line along the bank. I begin to get a churning in my stomach that good is about to happen.

We hear splashes behind us like drums in an orchestra as another feeding frenzy erupts. My dad yells for me to cast as he is scrambling to get his pole. As soon as the chug bug hits the water, it is engulfed by the carnivoristic giant I was looking to catch. My pole is almost to the point of breaking when he makes his first run. We see him come up to the surface and jump almost two feet in the air. The sun, now above the treeline, shows the fish’s true colors now. Shades of blue and purple shine off the fish as we admire the sheer beauty of the ancient creature. I begin to gain ground on the monster as he begins to tire. Beads of sweat are rolling off my face as he gets closer and closer to the boat. My dad grabs the net and just before he is within our grasps, he makes one final run into the murky abyss. This time, the fourteen pound line isn’t enough for the monster. As soon as the final run started, I knew the fight was over.

The boat ride back was the longest of my life. Looks of devastation and failure show on every crevasse on our faces. We had played a vicious game of tug-of-war, and “the monster” won. The story about “the monster” is told throughout the locals of Milford Lake, and the anglers that come down every summer as the one that got away.