Imagine the little golden haired angel tugging on your sleeve, you point dumpling towards the rest room while holding her Barbie Rod between thumb and forefinger, with the same enthusiasm you hold your spouse’s purse, scanning the horizon for any of the known “gossips” from your fishing club.

A minute later Sweetpea’s forgotten as you’re wrestling the North Carolina state record Channel catfish - armed with sequins, a pink bait caster, and little else.

“Hayes took the fishing rod and seconds later the toy hooked a state-record channel catfish, at 21 pounds, 1 ounce.”

Naturally when the cameramen show - you elbow Dumpling out of the way - forgetting, in your haste, that all your buddies will be taping every move on the 6:00 News.

That pained expression says it all, the sudden realization that your erstwhile pals will be calling you this evening when they decide on your new nickname.

It’s not going to be “Killer” or “BarbedWire,” and I don’t think it’ll be pretty.

Worse yet, how do you explain to the child, “it’s all downhill from here?”

I recognize that smile, it’s the one we all wore when we were younger, some of us still have it - but it’s largely absent from the print media.

Most covers feature some intently focused predator holding a flabby Salmo, whose truculent glare is undiluted by $100 sunglasses.  The guys in the advertisements don’t smile, the guys in the pinups are serious as death, and at best we get some half hearted grimace - because the fellow snapping the pic forgot to say “cheese.”

These guys … these guys are fishermen, Brownliners even - and the smile is the same on all our faces; wide as all creation, fulsome, packed with teeth, as we struggle to answer the question just asked of us …

“You gonna Eat that?”

That’s a purported world record carp pictured below, 260 pounds of toxin augmented muscle, with an IQ of at least Epsilon Semi-Moron, and probably has 14 different nicknames, one for each of the small children that vanished from lake’s edge.

Me, I let the fish go - the question’s answered by my actions, and the onlooker’s melt away.

The surge of adrenalin is wearing off, and the fellow on the right realizes he’s the sudden recipient of a lot of protein, and unless he has a really big family, he’ll need an even bigger shovel…

Dripping wet, standing in mud, and a smile as wide as all that, gotta love ‘em.

I’m never quite sure whether it’s penance or revenge, but another stud angler shows us the meaning of commitment when his ashes are mixed with 30 lbs of groundbait and tossed into the river.

It makes the “I went three days without deodorant” adventure story tame by comparison.

Mr Hodge’s widow Caroline and daughter Sally were the first to catapult balls of the bait into the River Huntspill to signal the start of an angling competition among Mr Hodge’s friends.

Brownliners don’t have friends, so I’ll have to settle for my executor randomly mailing jars of my corpulent frame to a list of fly shops I’ve prepared in advance.

With the canny marketing savvy of the Trout Underground, and his ” .. the label is irresistible, because I wrote it ” campaign, I should be decomposing in almost every blueline Mecca the “lower 48″ offers.

Then again, Tom Chandler could be pulling my leg, and I wind up as a hand cleanser … It begs the question, “Which great unspoiled angling paradise do you want to get dumped in, and why?”

Somehow I think ” … so Donny Beaver can drink me” may be the populist refrain…

You’re a herd animal, and if you lose your fishing pals you’ll give up the sport entirely.

Can’t say I blame you much as most of my fishing is solo, it takes a special dementia to walk 3-4 miles back to the car in the dark, or wade risky water without anyone knowing your whereabouts.

Nebraska has published some of their plans for retention and recruitment of their hunters and anglers, and the above is just one of their findings.

If you’re enamored of fishing for more than one species, you’ll remain an angler longer and generate additional fees for the state’s coffers.

I say, “Welcome to the Brownline” - as it wouldn’t surprise me to see  emphasis on trophy warm water fisheries; migratory fish are in decline worldwide, there’s no more pristine water for fancy trout “farms”, and warm water fish are hardy, plentiful, and close to home.

Makes you wonder what would happen if they applied the traditional “single barbless catch and release only” restriction to a Largemouth fishery - and whether you’d allow your kids near the water’s edge …

If hunting and fishing are to increase in popularity,
public support is critical. Education and marketing
programs that portray the hunter and angler as the law
abiding citizens they are have not been effective. One
study by Responsive Management in 2003 suggested
the majority of our public still feels that most hunters
knowingly violate hunting laws and over one third of
Americans feel that “a lot” of anglers consciously violate
fishing laws.

… you’re also a poacher, which isn’t much of a sin considering the number of Jack Rabbits and Deer taken during “Steel Belted Radial” season.

All the states are struggling with the same phenomenon, the gradual gentrification of society and the slow erosion of the outdoor skill set, mostly because the outdoors is vanishing as well.

Findings like this will be watched carefully by the other 49 states, and it shouldn’t surprise us to see some commonality in their approach - especially if any are successful.

It’s both surprising and predictable, a statistical glimpse of the evolution of fishing and outdoor tradition - after a couple of decades of Ronald McDonald, over protective parents, and absent the sterile blessing of Saranwrap.

Pennsylvania Fish and Boat commission released a trout angling survey last week that has an uncommon tilt; of those surveyed only 3% confessed they fished to eat the result.

82% fished bait, 59% lures, and 40% were fly fishermen, the majority preferred bait (53%), but they also preferred to release the fish (88%) at least half the time.

That seems abnormally high - and may include small fish thrown back in favor of larger quarry, which may qualify as “half the time.”

Pennsylvania being a couple thousand miles away, California’s interpretation of this time honored practice suggests; 97% of us are neighbors of the 3% that keep fish, so we can expect freezer burned “gifts” at any moment.

I don’t think the government would be terribly appreciative but we may want to reintroduce the “Viking funeral” for hardcore anglers, what better way to display your devotion than,  “I want to be nutrients for invertebrates.”

A lot of research has been focused at the effect of pacific salmon carcasses in West Coast fisheries, specifically the benefit performed by many thousands of tons of decaying fish distributed throughout the waterway and its banks.

Researchers have traced salmon nutrients to many
different types of organisms, from freshwater invertebrates
and fish to birds and bears and even to streamside
vegetation. These organisms take up the nutrients
by feeding directly on salmon eggs and spawnedout
carcasses, incorporated dissolved nutrients (e.g.,
algae and fungi), or feeding on other organisms that
have taken up salmon nutrients. Streams that are fertilized
by salmon nutrients are hypothesized to be more
productive than streams that receive relatively few or
no salmon.

Salmon apparently have great impact to the insect populations of their host streams, and not all of them are beneficial. Construction of spawning “redds” are destructive to to the host insects - and the density of the spawn can radically diminish insect populations in the prime gravel areas.

After two years of benthic sampling for insect production
and analysis, preliminary results show that the stream bed disturbance caused by salmon spawning activities severely impacts the insect community, reducing density and perhaps even diversity.

This affect is reversed by the decomposition of spawned salmon, and the benefits of carcasses and their debris lasts about 6 months. Researchers are able to see the effects of Carbon, Nitrogen, and Phosphorus, released by the decaying salmon, as their isotopes originated in salt water making them different than resident minerals. Streams vary in mineral richness, and some streams can get a mineral boost in excess of 30% of their historical totals.

Bilby et al. (1996) also monitored growth rates of juvenile
fish, finding that age-0-plus coho salmon exhibited a doubling in growth rate after adults spawned in the stream. In a nearby stream without spawning salmon, age-0-plus steelhead showed no change in growth rate during the winter. High growth rates can increase the overwinter survival rate, and larger smolt size has been related to increased marine survival (Bilton et al. 1982; Ward and Slaney 1988). Piorkowski (1995) qlso found that direct consumption of salmon biomass was the main avenue of nutrient uptake for salmon fry, grayling (Thymallus spp.), and rainbow trout (0. mykiss) in southcentral.Alaskan
streams.

The value of a carcass is obtained only if it isn’t flushed out of the ecosystem due to high water. Streamside debris plays a role in capturing and retaining carcasses long enough for them to be consumed by insects and terrestrial animals.

The bad news is the value to the watershed rises if more bodies are available to decay, as almost all of the Pacific salmon runs are a fraction of their historic size, this makes the host rivers less fertile than before. The implication may be that less returning fish means  the rivers are able to support less insects and juveniles.

The same applies for salmon eggs and released milt. About 30% of the eggs released actually spawn, the other 70% become additional forage for anything able to ingest them.

What isn’t mentioned and might be inferred is the effect of dams on the fertility of a host river. Blocking any migration would remove the beneficial effect of carcasses and suggests the river is immediately less fertile and unable to support historic populations of insects and resident fish.

The short answer is there’s no such thing as a bad way to dispose of fish parts. Tossed onto the bank they’re forage for all manner of terrestrial wildlife and plants, and flung into the creek they’re chow for mayflies, caddis, and everything else, including next season’s fry.

Add it to your list of snappy comebacks should some bird watcher grief you over your “natural” disposal methods - as long as you don’t hit them with it - it’s all good.

Skipping the fishing to go straight to the catching part sounds potentially cheaper, but the virtual odds sound much too realistic to be a cost savings.

I don’t think you’ll want to leave your cell phone lying around; $10 for three casts approximates the cost of fly fishing, but the idea that your kid could pizzle away your entire paycheck, worse yet, could win two or three hundred pounds of fish should cause you to blanch.

The game — called “Ippon Zuri” (which means “pole-and-line fishing”) — was created by FIT, a Fukuoka-based system development company who teamed up with a local seafood wholesaler. Game play is simple: players use the phone keys to cast bait to promising-looking fish in the game’s virtual waters, which include sea bream, crab, and other seasonal fish. When a fish takes the bait, the player is sent to a slot machine screen where, if luck prevails and 3 numbers line up appropriately, the virtual fish is hooked and reeled in. A message is then relayed to the wholesaler, who picks up the real-world equivalent from the local seafood market and delivers it, whole and raw, to the player’s doorstep.

Hardened anglers will balk at the slot machine segment, decrying that fishing could ever compare with any game of chance. I’m not so sure that fading light and tiny naturals isn’t exactly that - chancy at best to pick the correct fly and even less of seeing it to set the hook.

They tried the live action version on those Internet deer hunting sites, I’m guessing the webcam flavor can’t be far behind.

My mistake was volunteering to help out a fellow fisherman, looking at me with them big puppy eyes, the stare you only see at the pet store window, capable of inflicting guilt and shame without hint of malice.

So I took the pager, figuring it was going to be an easy shift, and as I had no weekend plans for something finer - I could curry a little favor in the process.

Later I saw Ray in the hallway, “Yea, Me’n Fred are going to Gunfire Lake. We gonna have his boat, and some steaks …and we didn’t invite you ’cause you always turn us down.”

I couldn’t help but smile, “Ray, it’s the self-preservation instinct that prevents me from accepting when you and Fred do anything, like my dad, I recognize a ‘fishless fishing trip’ when I sees it..”

Then we had over 700 lightning fires bust during my shift, and after 40 hours without sleep I’m thinking I got the raw end of the deal. I drag myself into work yesterday wearing that pained expression that says, “bad trade”, hoping for a little sympathy.

There’s Fred in the hallway, with a grin from ear to ear. I’m expecting the “we kilt ‘em” version, figuring fair play dictates I endure the recitation of deeds; how big, how many, and which fingers were removed by the largest of their quarry.

Fred starts the recital off key, ” ..well, the ramp ran out before the water started, so we had a little trouble with the trailer and the mud, but after we got out there, we saw that “hatch” thing you was talking about, fish were gobbling them on the surface, and Ray got bit on the fly rod a couple times but lost them.”

“We fished until about 11PM and it got real dark as there was no moon, so we decides to head back the 1/2 mile to the ramp, but couldn’t find it in the dark. I had to go slow ’cause all them tree stumps in the water, and we couldn’t see nothing.”

“A couple hours later, around 1AM, we see’s this campfire but we knew they was drunk and figured not to surprise them, so we opted to spend the night in the boat. Me and Ray only had shorts and tee shirts and it was damn cold, must’ve got down to 40 or so.”

“I had Ray cut the Bimini top off the boat with his knife so we had something to cover us - and I wrapped paper towels on my arms hoping that would work, but they kept coming off.”

This tale of woe is quickly lifting my spirits, I may not have got much sleep but it’s plain neither did they. A crowd of sportsmen have gathered, as nothing’s quite as compelling as shared outdoor misery. Just then Ray comes through the door, and I ask, “how’d that shared communal warmth thing work, Ray?”

A voice from the back of the pack asks, “where’d they go?” - another faceless angler responds, “Indian Valley Reservoir, over by BrokeBack Mountain.”

Fred perks up instantly, “we didn’t do no spooning, we’d have died before that..”

Nothing like a pack of wolves to cull the infirm at the first sign of weakness..

We clapped and cheered during Desert Storm, watching the “business end” of multi-million dollar weaponry aimed at some Iraqi latrine, who or what was inside was secondary to the sudden burst of static that signified mission successful…

Using the latest 3D CAD technology, Ferris-Tech has developed the worlds first time-release active bait delivery system to eject the bait in a sudden but calculated ‘bomb burst’.

All that’s really needed is some nose mounted camera where we can see the shocked expression and lips form the “Oh Sh..”

Hell, I’d give up fly fishing entirely if I could take turns painting trout with a laser - who couldn’t resist a little payback? We could toss all those silly wide arbor gimcracks in favor of face paint and SEAL satellite phones:

“Roger, Cahill-Six, the target is Invasive Species and  illuminated, recommend Bait Bomb set for wide dispersal, Over.”

Now who’s clamoring for Poppa to take him fishing? Every parent will exult as Junior leaps off the couch to give Mr Carp a black eye. Poppa regains hero status lost to video games, and the balance of Nature restored… well, kinda.

Fishermen have always gravitated to “whatever works, ” - and with declining revenue, less fish, and fuel costs, the choice may be as simple as a new career.

New Jersey’s commercial fishing fleet is the eighth largest in the US, and with the travails of the fishing industry well documented, they’re looking to branch out into the renewable energy market.

But the Garden State wants to be home to the U.S.’s first offshore wind farm. Fishermen’s Energy hopes to install eight turbines capable of 20 megawatts by 2011 off the coast of Atlantic City, and an additional 64 turbines and 320 megawatts by 2013.

I’ve always known fishermen to be the center of a lot of hot air, it’s about time we leveraged that gift for something material.