|
|
When Guy was 12, his father bought him a single shot .22-caliber rifle that came with instructions, A,B,C, "Always Be Careful." In no time the boy was allowed to hunt on his own, spending his free time roaming the woods around the Catawissa property shooting squirrels.
"There were no houses here then," Kircher said. "Dad built one of the first houses here." The lake was developed in 1955 and 1956 and Kircher built his house in 1957. It sits at the far end of the road that circles the lake on the south side.
Love of Fishing
As a teen Guy remembers catching his first big fish using a rod and reel.
"It was the biggest fish we'd ever seen," Kircher said.
His love of fishing became a compulsion taking him to the water at every opportunity. He preferred the Missouri River where the big catfish lurk.
Kircher graduated from Pacific High School. He married and moved to St. Louis where the couple had three children - Guy, Shelly and Scotty. He became a barber and found a job at Gray's Barbershop on Chippewa in South St. Louis. Then he opened his own shop at McCausland and Manchester. He spent every weekend back at the family property in Catawissa hunting, or fishing on the Missouri where he was building a reputation for catching big fish.
Seven years ago he came back to Pacific and went to work at Bob's Barbershop. That gave him more time to reach his favorite fishing spot on the Missouri River. As his fishing reputation grew, Kircher bought a set of 300-pound deer scales that are set precisely, and certified, in order to record his catches.
"I want a true weight," he said. "No b.s."
To confirm his catch, Kircher rigged his deer scale, where he hangs his catch for weighing then he tosses them back into the river.
One photo in his huge collection of fish pictures shows Guy hidden behind a 104-pound catfish attached to his scale.
"I like to eat catfish," he said. "I keep as many as I want to eat, but I throw the big ones back so someone else can catch them."
To help get the fish into the boat, he rigged a giant dip net made of conduit-steel netting that is as deep as a man.
"I'm not very big, but no man, no matter how big, no man could reach out over the edge of a boat and lift a 100-pound fish into the boat," Kircher said.
Once you get the big fish into the dip net, you pull the net and dump it into the boat. Last July his line had 105-pound fish on it. He caught one a year later that was bigger. It had a bigger head and was longer. But it had just dropped it eggs, so it only weighed 95 pounds.
"Every year you hear of fish that weigh 90 pounds being caught on the Missouri, but you hardly never hear of one over 100 pounds," he said.
Kircher is also a stickler for cleaning catfish.
"Blue and flathead are the prime eating fish," he said. "But it depends on how you clean them. You cut the red meat and the fat off and bleed them. You have to get the blood out of the meat."
He freezes his catch in gallon freezer bags with a little water in it to keep them from dehydrating in the refrigerator.
"A 1-gallon bag of catfish will feed six or eight people," he said. "Fish don't last long enough at the Kircher house to get freezer burn."
After a divorce, Kircher returned to the family home where he grew up. It's different now. Lake Serene is surrounded by homes. Kircher's home sits at the extreme end of the road leading around the lake. He likes the view of the water.
The stories of men who yearn to catch a big fish have filled Kircher's life. "A lot of people have said they wanted to go fishing with me to catch a big first," Kircher said. "But after they finally catch one, they don't go any more."
African Safaris
Kircher is understanding about fishermen who yearn to catch a big fish. He also had a lifelong dream that just wouldn't let him go.
As a small boy, he began to dream of going on safari in Africa to hunt for big game. He never let go of the dream, watching every movie and reading every book he could find on Africa. In 1997, his research offered a unique opportunity.
In a section of Zimbabwe, near Victoria Falls, where hunting elephants had been banned since the 1970s, rogue male elephants were destroying trees and encroaching into farms. It was decided that that they had to be hunted out. Kircher made arrangements to make the trip.
Kircher flew into Johannesburg, South Africa, and then up to Victoria Falls where he met his guide, Roderick Crawford, a man in his mid-30s. With two porters, Kircher and Crawford set out. One afternoon the porters spotted a herd of marauding male elephants. Looking across a distance, the hunters could see the herd milling about and kicking up dust One in particular stood about 2 feet taller than the others. As they began to track the herd, the porters shook small bags of ashes from outstretched arms.
"If the ashes moved in the direction of the elephants we had to hightail it out of there," Kircher said. "If they caught scent of us, they would charge us."
The porters, following the tracks, rushed back to the guide, holding their arms in wide hoops. That was the size of the footprint of the largest male.
"Is that big?" Kircher asked his guide.
"Guy, that's a bloody dinosaur," Crawford answered.
After two days the party reached a spot where Kircher could get a shot at the big male. His first shot went in at the shoulder near the heart but didn't down the elephant. The huge animal turned and charged directly toward the hunting party. Kircher fired a second shot that hit it between the eyes.
"That shot didn't down him either, but it turned him," Kircher said. "He went up a hill aways and fell."
Crawford snapped a picture of Kircher standing behind the legs of his kill. The elephant's head is pushed against the tree where it fell. Another snapshot shows Kircher squatting in the crook of the elephant's front legs. The pads of the two front feet, which the porters had described with their arms, dwarf the hunter.
The 8-foot long tusks were removed and a mold made of them that Guy was allowed to bring home.
But the adventure of an African safari was not over. One evening some game wardens visited their camp and asked to talk with the guide. When they left, Crawford approached Guy, asking if he'd like to hunt lions. Three large lions were killing local livestock and authorities feared they would turn into man-eaters.
It was night, a good time to hunt lions, the guide said, because that's when they hunt. The party went out to a cattle farm and immediately found what they were looking for.
"When we got there two of the lions had one cow down and were eating it," Kircher said. "I shot them both."
Like the legendary Lions of Tsaavo that are on display in the Field Museum in Chicago - and like his elephant kill - the lions Kircher shot were huge. An avid reader of African lore, Kircher knew about the big Tsaavo lions but never dreamed of hunting them.
A photograph, snapped by Crawford, shows Guy squatting between the two lions. He is holding the head of one lion. Its extended neck is as wide as his body.
When asked about his thoughts as he faced the rogue elephant or the lions, Kircher was philosophical.
"As a hunter, I knew what to do," he said. "You might get a little excited before or after, but when you're facing the game, you have to get a round off."
Unexpected Fishing Partners
After he returned from Africa he returned to his fishing, taking an occasional trip in the United States. He caught a 400-pound tiger shark at Port Aransas, Texas, and caught enough spoonbill at Table Rock Lake that a reporter for the Kansas City Star, who observed the catch, snapped a picture and put Kircher in the newspaper.
But for the most part, his fishing was a solitary business. Every weekend found him at his dock in New Haven entering the Missouri River looking for the next big fish. He's had occasional fishing partners, but until recently they never lasted.
Then an unexpected thing happened that would change his love affair with the river in a way he had never dreamed of.
On one fishing trip a friend asked him to take along a woman he knew who liked to fish. Her name was Monica. On his johnboat, Kircher threw a seine net out into the river to catch the live bait he needed for his lines. As he pulled the net into the boat, Monica began helping him pull in the net. Then she climbed onto the net and used her hands to throw the fish into the boat.
"I looked at that and said to myself, 'I think I'm in love,' " Kircher relates the incident.
In no time, they were married. After she moved into the house on Lake Serene, Monica could fish every day after work. She threw her catch into the live bait box that Guy built at the edge of the lake.
His luck with fishing partners was to improve one more time. Mike Hyndrich, another avid fisherman with a dream of catching big fish, approached Kircher at the barbershop, asking if he could accompany him on a fishing trip.
"I had known about Guy since I was about 14," Hyndrich said. "I had never caught a big fish, but I always wanted to."
The pair became more than fishing buddies. They became partners. Hyndrich and Kircher took Hyndrich's johnboat to the Missouri River at New Haven, eased the boat along the edge of the current until Kircher spotted the ideal movement of the water to drop in their lines.
"He's become a true partner," Kircher said of Hyndrich. "The best help I ever had. We bait up every Saturday night and we're out there every Sunday checking the lines."
Hopes to Fish Into His 80s
Kircher cautions anyone reading about catching big fish that it is still an activity that requires as much patience as skill. You have to use good equipment and know where the big fish bite, but you also need patience.
"They don't bite all the time," Kircher said. "If you caught fish every time you went out, it would be called catching, not fishing."
Africa was the ultimate experience for this lifelong sportsman but as he has grown older, he has become more softhearted.
"There is no hunter instinct left," he said. "I don't kill anything anymore. I'd rather look at them. I can see deer right out here."
Somewhere along the way, he became a chain smoker, a characteristic that has come to identify him as much as the easy conversation that reflects his personality. Not given to boasting or bombasting, accounts of his catches and kills are delivered in swirls of smoke. It's a habit that he has no thought of giving up.
Diagnosed with esophageal cancer last year, Kircher is undergoing treatment so he doesn't get to fish as much as he would like, but he has not lost his love of the sport.
When I visited him and Monica at his house on the lake, he pulled out the molds of the tusks of his big elephant and posed with them, reminding me that that were about 18 inches longer when they were on the elephant.
"The first foot and a half is soft tissue," he said. "They couldn't mold that."
He also posed in front of the framed family tree that dates back to 1360. It was compiled in 1907. Someone in the family gave it to him years ago. Monica found it in the basement rolled up in a mailing tube. She had it framed and gave it to Guy for Christmas. He described it as the best gift he ever received.
He is not ready to give up fishing, or smoking. With a constant cigarette in his hand, he looks at his waterfront view at his Lake Serene home and thinks of the next catch.
"Grandpa fished until he was old," Guy said. "When he was 80 he'd bring in a catch of five or six fish that added up to 150 pounds. I keep looking forward to it. There's always a charge there when you get a big one."
