Flooding during the 2008 spring and summer is believed to have bolstered the growth and survival rates of catfish in Missouri's river systems. Photo by Bruce Ingram.

These days, former MDC fisheries biologist Kevin Sullivan doesn't spend his days up to his armpits in either catfish statistics or, literally, catfish. Now, he has a fancier title as one of the supervisors at the Clinton District Office. His new duties notwithstanding, Sullivan is still the sharpest tool in the shed on just about any topic associated with Missouri catfish.

When Sullivan and I got together to discuss this article, our first order of business was a figurative backslapping, cap-tossing celebration of our mutual enthusiasm about the near future of river catfishing in the Show-Me State. Both of us gave 2008's repeated -- and sometimes prolonged -- high-water events most of the credit for our optimism, but Sullivan was able to augment the more than 50 years I've spent casting baits into muddy water with some crystal-clear scientific proof.

"Major flood events like the ones we experienced on the Missouri and Mississippi rivers -- and, to a lesser extent, on the Osage (River) west of Truman -- during the 2008 spring and summer set the stage for improved catfishing for a combination of reasons," Sullivan said. "For example, the tremendous increase in food- and cover-rich habitat created when rivers overflow their banks boosts the survival and growth rates of both young-of-the-year catfish and the prey species adult catfish depend upon to maintain satisfactory growth rates. In addition, except for catfishermen like you, high water reduces fishing pressure, which keeps more fish in the system where they can continue to grow."

I had to chuckle at Sullivan's friendly jibe. It's been said that my catfishing partner, Mike Jenkins, and I would "skip work on payday," if there was a reservoir tributary rising anywhere within two (OK, maybe four) hours of Sedalia. Most of the time, that's probably a slight exaggeration, but in 2008, both of us often sang the praises of direct deposit.

At least in our minds, there's a good reason for what, at first glance, might seem to be a lack of responsibility. Whenever heavy rainfall over all or part of a reservoir's watershed pushes a rush of fresh water out of its tributaries, massive numbers of catfish leave the flat water and move into the rising streams. Most of these fish weigh less than 5 pounds, but there will be serious line-stretchers among them.

My catfish boat, a wide-bodied 16-foot johnboat is equipped with anchors at both its bow and stern so it can be anchored crosswise to the current and has sufficient rod holders to allow two anglers to fish with three rods apiece. Dropping six baits into a mass of hungry catfish can give new meaning to the term "action-packed," but it's fun -- especially when it's the other guy who has more rods bouncing than he has hands.

Since my serious conversation with Sullivan wound up beginning with reservoirs rather than rivers, this article will follow suit. For purposes of clarity, the term "reservoir" will be used to describe a multi-thousand-acre impoundment, the primary purpose of which is to provide flood control, generate electricity or both.