Daily Limit: Raccoon stowaway

This exhausted raccoon climbed up on Chad Dorland's boat.

Most anglers can report having a creature hitchhiker of some sort in their boat, but few have experienced an encounter like Chad Dorland and his partner.

Dorland, of Ocala, Fla., and Frank Campisi of New Hampshire were fishing the vast Susquehanna Flats on Day 1 of the Academy Sports + Outdoors B.A.S.S. Nation Eastern Regional on the Upper Chesapeake Bay when they saw something swimming.

“We couldn’t make it out. ‘Is that a beaver? No.’ We only realized it was a raccoon when it swam closer,” Dorland said. “Then we saw one paw go over the splash well. Then we see two. Next thing you know he crawls in.”

The anglers considered what to do in such an odd situation. The raccoon didn’t look rabid and calmly staked out a corner. Dorland said they were close to a mile from any land and the creature looked exhausted.

“He was looking at us with those puppy dog eyes — we can’t hurt him,” he said. “He just sat there and he was no issue at all.

“I’m sure he just stepped in and the tide just took him out. He had probably been swimming for an hour. That’s why he was so docile.”

The two fished that area about another two hours, glancing over every so often to check on their uninvited guest, who hardly moved. But the tide was changing and they needed to move.

“My problem was what are we going to do to get up on plane,” Dorland said.

When Dorland lowered the trim, the raccoon didn’t run but looked around anxiously for some type of cover, he said. Then they opened a rear compartment, emptied it out mostly, sat down and fired up the engine.

“He was kind of startled but walked on the back deck and climbed in,” he said. “We closed the lid and that was it. We ran about 5 miles to another area. We didn’t forget about him but we kind of forgot about him. He never made a sound, and we never got close to shore.”

While they worked on their raccoon eyes fishing the next four hours, the critter didn’t make a peep. It did get thirsty and presumably drank two bottles of water in the compartment and left holes in the other two.

All told, the raccoon traveled about 20 miles, but they had a safe release after Dorland and Campisi checked in and idled near the boat ramp. They opened the compartment and got on the front deck. It popped its head up, looked around, saw land, climbed out, swam to shore and made its way to the woods.

“Another boater was like, ‘Is that what I think it is?’” Dorland said. “My co-anglers the next two days were kind of stunned — ‘You’re the one who picked up the raccoon? A lot of my Federation friends didn’t believe the story until they saw the pictures.”

It was a less worrisome visitor than Dorland gets in Florida — he said alligators chasing his frog back to the boat have tried climbing in after it. Fortunately, those were small and gators get more leery the bigger they become.

Although Dorland had good karma for saving that raccoon, the fish didn’t come rushing over the gunnels. He finished 35th with seven fish over three days. But he did leave with a pretty crazy memory.

HOW EHRLER STARTED SPIRIT ANIMAL TALK

Credit — or blame — Brent Ehrler for bringing “spirit animal” into B.A.S.S. lexicon. Yes, even when Ehrler first heard the term, he had to ask, what is a spirit animal?

The top definition for “spirit animal,” according to the Urban Dictionary, is “an animal that chooses you or you choose it to get guidance and learning to help you through life.”

It’s a thing with some Native Americans. There are a number of web sites where anyone can answer questions to determine their spirit animal; Mine was a tiger.

Ehrler had heard about them awhile back when he lived at a ski resort. (Remember he chose fishing over professional skiing because of the better potential salary)

“I have a friend whose spirit animal is a bass, and he has this infatuation with me because I’m a bass fisherman,” Ehrler said. “Years ago, we’re riding up a chair lift and he asked me what my spirit animal was. I had never heard of it — lot of hippies around ski resorts.”

Last year, Ehrler recalled the term and thought it would be funny to text Bassmaster TV host Mark Zona and ask him what his spirit animal was.

“He goes, ‘Any kind of marsupial.’ I’m like, ‘A marsupial? Like  a koala?’ ‘No, more like a wombat,’” Ehrler said. “About 20 minutes later he texted me back. ‘And what’s yours?’ I go, ‘You.’ That’s how the whole thing came about.”

Good to know.

And below is our Zona/wombat composite. (Just the expression on Zonabat’s face has had me ROTFL.)

FINDING A SCHOOL WITH BASS

Wherever you grew up or live now, there are always those high schools better in particular sports than others. And there’s always been stories of kids changing schools to go to them, or parents moving in to that district so their kids could play on that team.

It’s now happened in fishing.

Chicagoland angler Jake Gaston might be among the first to switch schools so he could fish in Illinois High School Association sanctioned events. See how things worked out for the youth in Dale Bowman’s story in the Chicago Sun-Times.

Scottie Lucas of Scottie’s Taxidermy is surrounded with replicas of the 2016-17 crop of double-digit bass entered into the Toledo Bend Lake Association Lunker Bass Program.

BIG FISH ABOUND ON THE BEND

Toledo Bend, the No. 1 bass fishery the past two years as ranked in Bassmaster magazine’s top lakes, continues to produce lunker bass.

Last year, there were 139 bass weighing more than 10 pounds entered into the Toledo Bend Lake Association Lunker Bass Program. The mark from 2016-2017 reached 72, the third-highest number since the program began.

The program awards anglers who weigh 10-plus bass at designated spots — and let the fish be tagged and released back into Toledo Bend — fiberglass replicas from Scottie’s Taxidermy. They are usually awarded at the Sealy’s Big Bass Splash events.