No hooks, no bait, no fear. Noodling.

Welcome to Oklahoma! For all you freshman, transfers or new grad students, I would just like to personally welcome you to Oklahoma. I am glad you are here, and I hope that you get a chance to enjoy all that Oklahoma has to offer. Take advantage of the locals. We all have something to share. My good buddy Clint Rule would love to take you to the Great Salt Plains, or to see the fabulous murals in Elk City. If you are in Norman, you might want to take a tour of the haunted slaughter house, but we would have to call in some of our experts from around the country to give you their deluxe package. In all seriousness, Christmas isn’t Christmas (in the secular sense) without a trip to Chickasha to see their amazing light display.

But what makes Oklahoma the Oklahoma I know and love, occurs every summer, is steeped in tradition, and takes place in my birthplace, oh yes, put on your muscle tee’s, your backwards John Deer hat, and your cut-off “jorts”*, because it is time to go to the Okie Noodling Festival!!!!!!

Now, I wouldn’t suggest that you participate in the actual noodling. It is far too dangerous. After all you are catching catfish with your bare hands. That's right; I said bare hands. No hooks. No lines. No rods. No reels. Just hands. "Caveman fishing," a buddy of mine calls it. In some areas, folks call it by other names, such as hogging, tickling, grabbling or dogging

A pro noodler explains, “The person doing the noodling wades into a body of water where catfish are known to lurk, then reaches underwater and starts feeling for holes in the bank, in logs, under rocks and so forth. Catfish get in holes like this when spawning. Female catfish lay their eggs, then a male cat moves in to guard the eggs. The noodler feels for these holes because he knows when he reaches in, if a cat is on guard, it'll bite him. Then he can grab the fish--maybe--and pull it out.”




You're starting to understand the "stupid" part of all this, right?
The deal is, the noodler never knows for sure what's in the hole he's probing. It might be a catfish. Then again, it might be a snapping turtle, a beaver or a snake. Mr. Noodler's down there holding his breath, getting all tingly with excitement, while he thrusts his hands in dark underwater hidey-holes to see if anybody's home. He loves this stuff. He thrives on the adrenaline rush it affords. Some guys get their thrills driving racecars, or skydiving, or mountain climbing. Others get their kicks noodling.