Catfish are barometric-pressure psychics. A falling barometer before a storm? That’s the holy grail. They sense the drop and feed like there’s no tomorrow. A steady, cloudy day with a light drizzle is better than a sunny bluebird sky. If the sky looks like a bruise, pack your rods. Winter? Don’t even bother unless you’re ice fishing for the tiny, grumpy bullheads—and even they judge you.
One more thing: night fishing in summer beats day fishing every time. Put a glow stick on your bobber and wait. It’s creepy, it’s quiet, and the catfish prefer the cover of darkness like they’re planning a heist. If you hear a splash that sounds like a car hitting the water, that’s a big one. And yes, they can breathe air—sort of. They have a swim bladder that works like a primitive lung, so they can survive out of water for hours as long as they’re wet. Translation: they’re tough, ugly, and nearly immortal.
