Back in the Ohio Valley of my youth, every boy feared the day he would hook a fish and reel it in to find a gar, a creature with a snout and razor-sharp teeth, at the end of the line.

Gars snarl and snap like rabid raccoons when you snag ‘em. Kids either beat them to death or cut the line and kicked them back into the water with the hook as a badge of honor to show their buddies. I only remember catching one small one in the Ohio River, and I opted for the arguably cruel yet very usual hook-and-release method.

Times have changed. Enlightened rednecks now pursue the alligator gar for sport — and the monsters they hope to hook are far scarier than the 10-inch wannabe I couldn’t wait to cut loose in high school.

[A]lligator gar have experienced a kind of trash-to-trophy renaissance as sportsmen discovered the thrill of hunting the beasts, which can weigh up to 300 pounds and reach 8 feet in length. Gar hunting, with rod-and-reel as well as crossbow, has spawned a booming market for guides who charge as much as $750 a day to lead their clients deep into the muddy backwaters of Texas where the monster fish thrive.

In the rural South, the prospect of bagging a trophy gator gar inspires a special brand of enthusiasm. “I don’t consider myself a redneck, but sometimes I do redneck stuff,” says Mark Malfa, a gar guide in central Texas.

I hate to break it to you, Mr. Malfa, but if you take city slickers with deep pockets gar-hunting in the Texas backwoods, you’re a redneck. That’s not a bad thing, though. Now that I’ve seen the gar in a new and manly light, I wouldn’t mind being in your shoes.