Three fishing rods were leaned over the tiny back seat of my buddy’s Jeep CJ, the open air hissing through the fine line and small lures when our speed picked up. The summer between the end of high school and the start of college was winding down quickly, and my two closest friends and I had gotten into the habit of meeting after work and fishing one of the local creeks at least two or three evenings a week.

We would keep our tackle in the trucks, and at lunch, each of us would spend a few precious cell phone minutes arranging where to meet and which creek or pond to visit. We weren’t aggressive in our tactics – many of our outings resulted in us simply sitting and talking on a gravel bar – but we did manage to glean a number of fish while experimenting with different lures and techniques.

One particularly muggy afternoon, we parked the Jeep in some shade beneath a row of bent sycamores rimming the bank of a favorite spot along Trammel Creek. This day proved to be one of the serious outings, and we didn’t waste time chatting, swimming, skipping rocks or anything else. With little dialogue, we grabbed our rods and spread out evenly, with our bare feet in the cool current. We began to dissect the aqua blue waters with casts from our ultralight spinning gear.

The fish weren’t particularly cooperative, and as we continued fishing we put more distance between ourselves in an effort to find productive waters. Eventually we were all out of sight of one another. I turned my attention to a logjam that had created a deep, still pool that appeared promising. After several tries, my deep-diving Rebel crawdad aligned perfectly beside the longest log, and halfway through the retrieve a bass bolted out of the tangle and slammed the lure. The fight was brief but furious, and when I got him to shore I realized it appeared to be a very large Kentucky bass.

Some might wonder what a Kentucky bass is, or how to distinguish this type from the more common largemouth. This variety of black bass, which also happens to be our state fish, prefers the running waters of streams, creeks and rivers more than his popular largemouth cousin, which is commonly found in larger, deeper waters. Kentucky bass, sometimes known as spotted bass, do not grow to be as big as a largemouth.

Should you ever wonder if what you’ve landed is a Kentucky, a few tell-tale signs can help with identification. The largemouth and the Kentucky are shaped and colored a bit differently, but the chance angler probably won’t notice the subtleties of the Kentucky’s leaner frame or slightly modified dorsal fin.

The easiest way to distinguish a Kentucky bass from a largemouth is to look at the corner of the jawbone. A largemouth bass will have a jaw that extends past its eyeball, whereas a Kentucky bass’ jaw stops short of its eye. Two other characteristics used – although they are not always as dependable – are eye color and a unique “tongue tooth.” Some Kentucky bass have bright, brilliant red eyes that easily differentiate them from largemouth. Additionally, Kentucky bass often have a rough patch on their tongue, a sort of extra tooth, that can be used to identify them. But I’ve been told that this oddity sometimes occurs in other kinds of bass as well.

Once I determined that I’d landed my largest Kentucky bass to date, I feared that my friends wouldn’t believe me if they didn’t see the fish with their own eyes. After a lot of shouting, which bounced off the steep rock ledges and refused to travel past the dense foliage on the other bank, a quick sprint downstream brought me within earshot. Their skepticism turned to enthusiasm when they saw the fish swimming circles in the small muddy puddle I’d left him in for safekeeping. There was discussion of mounting, eating and finally photographing the fish, but in the absence of excess funds, a kitchen of our own or a camera, we simply admired the fish and then released him back to his lair beneath the tangle of debris.

I don’t know what she weighed, or how long the fish was, but every few years one of us still brings up the big Kentucky bass, and someone nearby will inevitably ask, “What’s a Kentucky bass?”

— Geordon T. Howell is outdoors columnist for the Daily News. He may be reached by at highbrasshowell@yahoo.com.