The Outlaw Tradition of Noodling for Catfish

Despite the innocent-sounding name, “noodling” is terrifying: It means getting into some water, sticking your hand into whatever dark hole you can find, and seeing what bites it. Then you wrestle out whatever monster is trying to eat said appendage. Not surprisingly, it is a sport with some interesting characters, who Cameron Maynard meets whilst reporting on Lake Tawakoni’s 3rd Annual Big Cat Tournament. At one point a disagreement in the rules results in everyone shouting at the tournament director, who is “wearing a rubber catfish mask pulled back on his forehead like a swim cap with whiskers.” It’s a highly entertaining read.

A few people roll their eyes, but several participants lower their heads and nod in agreement—the hospital would be bad, and at previous noodling tournaments, it’s been on the table. This is a sport that tends to generate arguments, accusations, and even violence. At this tournament, no one’s accused anyone else of cheating, but almost everyone has discreetly pointed at someone else here, accusing them of something in the past—bringing in fish from other lakes, fishing before tournament start times, putting weights in the fish to make them heavier, using illegal devices such as homemade gaffs, or just drumming up false accusations to cast doubt on someone’s character. You can feel the tension in the air, the same way you feel death drifting through the pews of a funeral. Noodling tournaments may be the closest thing we still have to anxious poker games at Wild West saloons.