She felt her minnow stop, then watched her line swim away with that steady, delicious downward pressure that makes you crazy. She ever so patiently fed him enough line to hang himself, then crossed his eyes with a solid hookset. I knew she had hooked up as her rod tip twitched and bent for the water like a divining stick. She squealed excitedly as the heavy fish dove for the bottom, then shot back up. You instinctively know a 5-pound smallmouth when you see one dance, tail-walking across the surface, then disappear in another deep dive, peeling line off against the drag, then back out of the water for another awesome tail walk, valiantly trying to spit the hook.