crashing bait

I love that term. Crashing bait. It sounds like a fin and gill train wreck. I was on the big river last weekend. The water was too cold for SMB's and so I thought I might just whack another 2 pound highfin carpsucker like last fall. The steady drone of a merc 9.9 plowing water across the flat bow of a kicked can aluminum jon boat nudged me out of my numb fishless trance. I was standing on the boat launch so I edged downstream a bit and nodded as a greasy local crashed into the concrete ramp. "Howdy", Says I. "Anything?", says he. "Nothin." says I. "Saw fish crashing bait down about 3/4 of a mile." Says he. "Below the eddy above the island?" Says I. "Yep, that's the spot." Says he. "Whaddya doin down there?" Says I. "Trappin' coons, get'n off the couch mostly." Says he. "Kinda cold for smallies..." Says I. "Maybe Pike..." Says he. Then "and I didn't bring a pole." And I didn't bring my boat, thinks I. 3/4 of a mile from bait crashing and no boat.