The heavyweight champions of Alabama, blue catfish are often found in tailraces below major reservoirs. Photo by Mike Handley.

It might be hard to swallow in this ever-evolving technological age, but just as many anglers in this state go after catfish as target black bass. Accordingly, it's at least a little a bit incomprehensible that some savvy boat manufacturer hasn't yet marketed a "cat boat." Somebody's literally missing the boat!

For one thing, it costs a lot to be a bass angler; for another, even if you can afford the fancy tackle and happen to catch a few bigmouths from the swivel chair mounted on your high-gloss metalflake vessel powered by the outboard the size of a washing machine, people tend to look at you crosseyed if you stick a knife into one of the sacred fish.

For this we can thank the "catch-and-release" mantra inherited by bass fishermen from trout-huggers -- you know: those guys and gals who seem happy as a clam to stand in cold water to catch a little fish barely bigger than a guppy. So kill a bass in a tournament nowadays, and you lose points -- not to mention your reputation with the other bassers.

On the other hand, nobody cares if you cut up a catfish.

It doesn't cost much to be a fisher of cats, either: The state-record (and, formerly, world-record) blue cat was caught on a shad head up on Wheeler Lake, while the present state-record blue of 117-pound out in Arkansas choked on a chunk of Spam.

Alabamians go after Mr. Whiskers for a couple of reasons. Some simply want to tangle with the biggest freshwater fish available; for a whole other bunch, the sole motivation is to create a fish fry. And why not? This state's waters offer ample opportunities for both.

I was the publisher of a hook-and-bullet tabloid during a former career. I traveled the state dropping off magazines, talking to the proprietors of bait shops and collecting their most recent Polaroid snapshots. Not only did I learn what was catching fish and when -- and, sometimes, where as well -- but I also saw the pudding's proof: lots of photos, taken all over the Cotton State, and in every one of its river drainages, of smiling anglers with their catches.

Based on what I saw in those pictures, I've come to believe that a person doesn't have to travel far in this state to find plenty of catfish. The following destinations are merely the best venues -- as determined by both photographic support and personal experience -- among many in the Heart of Dixie.

GAINESVILLE LAKE
I used to live in Sumter County -- truly a sportsman's paradise -- and became well acquainted with the Tombigbee River. The portion near Gainesville once was known only to locals, and primarily for crappie and catfish. It wasn't until a fellow landed a brace of 14-pound largemouths that this sleepy little reservoir attracted big-time attention.

But I knew Gainesville before Gainesville was cool. Jimmy Bedwell, my barber in Livingston, used to tell wondrous stories of his exploits there -- tales of days that saw him and his buddies set out soap lines for catfish. To hear him tell it, feeding the masses on the banks of the Tombigbee would not have taken a Biblical miracle.