Billy Joe and Carolyn Thomas of Vicksburg had it made -- it seemed. You could tell they were having a good day before asking if the fish were biting.

They were sitting in a 16-foot boat, each under big beach umbrellas. Both had a personal drink dispenser (ice chest) at their feet full of their favorite beverages, and the iPod was playing through a portable speaker system in the middle of the boat.

Carolyn had control of the remote, and Carrie Underwood was singing about how she'd show her cheating man the true meaning of a woman scorned.

Both wore cutoff jeans, T-shirts and layers of 45-spf sunscreen.

"The secret to staying cool," Carolyn said, "is keeping the sunscreen in the ice chest. Goes on cold, kind of refreshing."

Neither seemed to have a care in the world, until the mention of fish. Then Billy Joe Thomas seemed a little miffed.

"She's killing me," he said. "She's caught 15 catfish and I only got seven. Don't understand it. My lines are in the same place. We're using the same bait and she's getting most of the bites."

Carolyn smiled deviously, enjoying the moment. It was about to get better. The tip of one of her two rods twitched, and then twitched again.

"Well, Honey, it's about to be 16 to seven," she said.

She eased the rod out of the holder, waited until the line pulled tight and then set the hook with authority. She soon reeled in a 2-pound channel cat.

Billy Joe just shook his head. He leaned forward and fidgeted with both of his rods, like he was checking to see if they were still there.

"The sad part is, that it doesn't matter who catches what or how many, only one of us will clean them all -- me," he said.

His wife, who handled the spiny fish as expertly as can be and added it to the big fish box in the boat, rebaited her hook with a big night crawler and tossed it back in Eagle Lake.

"Yeah, but you know it's worth it," she said. "I cook them as good as they can be cooked and there's nothing like catfish, hushpuppies and a pot of turnip and mustard greens."

Billy Joe laughed and knew he couldn't argue. Eating doesn't get much better than that.

And fishing doesn't get much better either.

Though shunned by hoity-toity fishermen, the catfish offers great sport, and didn't get the recognition it deserved in Mississippi when the legislature chose the largemouth bass the state's official game fish.

After all, what is more Mississippi than the catfish?

Channel cats, blue cats and flatheads are all names synonymous with the sport of fishing in Mississippi. Plentiful in most state waters, from rivers and streams to reservoirs to stock ponds, catfish are here for the taking.

Fishermen like the Thomases don't have to be too serious about the sport to catch a boatload of the whiskered fish.

"It's why I don't like to go with him when he's chasing crappie or bass or bluegills," Carolyn Thomas said. "He gets all serious and won't let me play the music -- scared I'll spook the fish. And except for bream, the other fishing is just too much work. This is leisure, with a bonus. We usually catch more than we can eat and are home by lunch."