Summer always reminds me of stinkbait. Every year around this time, my grandfather, affectionately known as Bubba, takes his post on the back porch swing and spends a few hours rolling balls of rancid I don't know what into tasty catfish treats. I've become immune to the smell, having caught wiffs of it from the age of five. What I'll never understand is that my family, just like about everyone else in the South, is willing to eat the fish that eat the stinkbait. Bottom-feeders, namely catfish, can't resist the stuff. My Bubba and I use the stinkbait with rods-and-reels, trotlines, and most successfully, on jugs.

To make our fishing experience even more southern (i.e. redneck), we save two liter soda bottles and paint them neon orange. When we have enough, we attach long and sturdy strands of rope to the bottles' necks and, at the end, tie an enormous, savage looking hook. At the end of the hooks, stinkbait. Or some small, unfortunate fish. But I have to say, I prefer the stinkbait. We always put the jugs out after the sun goes down and check them the next day before the sun comes up. And we are nearly always successful. Stinkbait attracts the most attention. We regularly catch 20 pound catfish. We can always tell how big the fish is by the way the jug bobs up and down in the water. We've caught a few fish so large that we've had to chase the jugs down in our Army green flatbottom boat. There's always celebration from my cousins and aunt when we get back to our campsite and sarcastic comments from my Nana.

I have no idea what goes into stinkbait. From the smell I would venture to guess it's some sort of expired dairy trifectta like rotten milk, cottage cheese, and bad yogurt. There's probably more, but in this situation, I think it's best that I don't know. I do know that I love all of the memories that stinkbait has created for me. I'm married now, and my husband hasn't ever dealt in stinkbait. I hope that I can take what I learned about fishing from my Bubba and teach my family. I want to make lasting memories for Brian and our potential children, even if they do stink.