Take a look around Bluffton, use your imagination and ask 'What If'?

What if?

Those two words are pretty darn powerful. If you're like me, you've uttered those words countless times over the years. "What if I had entered law school instead of going to art school?" See what I mean? It would have changed everything, but in reality, it changes nothing.

So where am I going with this? I guess it's my artsy genes, but when my daughter Camden was a little girl we played a game called "What If" that we made up when she was about 7 years old. Even to this day (she's 27 now), we still play it as we drive along on trips. What if that cow over in that field stood up and started dancing? I know it's silly, but at the same time, the possibilities are limited solely by your imagination.

Here is where "What If" comes in to this column: What if I was sent back in time -- right here in Bluffton -- to when the Indians lived here? Believe it or not, this thought has gone through my mind many times as I've been out fishing in the creeks. I try to imagine what it was like. I know they had their hardships, but what a place it must have been.

So what do I think it would look like? I imagine herds of deer everywhere, as well as cougars, bears and game galore. And talk about fish and seafood -- I am willing to bet the Indians had very little trouble finding a meal. I am not sure when the first crab was cooked, but they were probably so numerous that all you had to do was walk along the banks to fill your basket with crabs, oysters and clams. And the fishing had to been unbelievable. If I were an Indian, this would have been the place to be. There is no way you would starve.

OK, so here's another "what if": What if all of the water drained out of the May River and adjacent sounds for just a few minutes. What would you see? Can you imagine the number of fish flopping around on the mud? This thought has passed through my head more than once, especially during the early fall when the creeks are alive with fish getting ready to either migrate offshore and others just arriving.

I imagine redfish that push 100 pounds, monster black drum over six feet long and, in the deep holes, shrimp piled up by the thousands. Questions like "Why don't we catch big gator trout like they catch down in Texas?" would be answered because with all the water gone, their mystery location finally would be revealed. And can you imagine the number of doormat-sized flounder you would see? Lord have mercy, you would be eating flounder sandwiches with filets three inches thick.

Being an offshore fishing freak, I'd ask this: What if you could travel back hundreds of years, complete with a modern boat, all the tackle you might need and all the luxuries of modern-day fishing? What a day you would have at sea!

Taking it one step further, and since I absolutely love to bottom fish, think of doing that while going after red snapper and grouper. Heck, when I was about 10 years old, it wasn't unusual for me to fill several wheel barrels with monster snapper and grouper.

I am not sure how many of you have ever done this type of fishing, but to find large concentrations of bottom fish you use sonar, and when you get on a big school they appear as a dark red blob on the sonar screen. I am willing to bet that once you got in an area with bottom fish, that screen would be red from top to bottom for miles. The thought of dropping a bait down to them almost scares me because a 30-pound snapper or grouper can put you in a world of hurt. Double -- or maybe even triple -- that weight and that is what I imagine from that period of time. Talk about a back-breaker. It hurts me just thinking about it.

And my last "what if" would be one that I have thought about countless times: What if you were the only person around for one day in today's world? As strictly a bird hunter, there is nothing more fun to me than a good dove shoot. I would go dove hunting in places like Sea Pines, Colleton River -- maybe even downtown Bluffton -- and other places where I have seen large concentrations of doves.

So there you have it, some of my favorite "what if"s. I could go on and on but you really have to admit you can do a lot with those two words. What if the Packet paid me $1,000 per column? Now that's my kind of "what if!"

Collins Doughtie is the outdoors columnist for The Bluffton Packet.