Monthly Archives: December 2011

For two days a year I become the baked equivalent of Brad Pitt

Nearly twice a year I’m required to join the rest of society for a weekend of normality – foreswearing hooks and tinsels, muddy creek bottoms, mashed sandwiches, and foul language.

In addition to the demise of the neatly tapered whip finish, most of us 99%’ers require a plastic container and paper label extolling the leaden nature of Grandma’s Fruit Cake – so we can tell how many slices we’ll have before the Type IV Diabetes klaxon summons the Gendarmes …

The many decade-long fairytale of Grandma’s Orgy of Christmas Baked goods has somehow given way to a smoldering microwave and a store-bought box of sugary unmentionables.

… which gives off a comforting whiff of overly warmed plastic when zapped, so we remind our kids of how plastic smelled – back when it had real carbon …

As I represent the 1% that still makes everything by hand – it falls to me to make the workforce regret coming to work this week, and stuffing themselves beyond capacity because the food is real for a change.

Fatty does a reasonable impersonation of Grandma

When you’re attempting to feed 40 or 50 people the Precious becomes the flat areas of the kitchen. As each smoking tray is yanked from the oven it was offloaded onto my makeshift cooling rack, wherein I shoved aside boxes of scissors, hooks, and flies – in favor of cinnamon, powdered sugar, and slivered almonds.

Herein lies the lesson for you young bucks – given that tomorrow everything feminine within a couple of zip codes will be making big doe eyes in my direction, as I’ve been identified as the Baking Equivalent of Brad Pitt.

… which will last so long as I’m upwind of them gals …

It’s not about being the best fisherman, it’s about being the best provisioned – you’ll always get the invite so long as you can lay on the smoking board  …

The list of donors being long and distinguished

While completely contemptuous of the current congress, I was surprised to learn that in addition to insider trading, ignoring any real responsibilities and the President, they have a sportsman’s fraternity – a caucus actually – where they can pontificate on all the reasons they love Mother Nature, so the carbon lobby feels obliged to add a couple zero’s to the legislators favorite charity … hisself.

pepper_Spray_congress

While the Democrats have consistently outshot the Republican team for the last three years running, it was amusing to see the group mentioned in a recent interview …

Mullins: What in the world does the Congressional Sportsmen’s Caucus do?

Harper: We hunt liberal, tree-hugging Democrats, although it does seem like a waste of good ammunition.

While I commend the above sentiment, I’m thinking they may want to dispense with the sporting clays and simply unload on the assembly from the spectators balcony.

… with an approval rating less than 10%, tree hugging Democrats are indistinguishable from washroom toe-tapping Republicans, and we’d be better off reshuffling the hand versus playing the cards dealt.

I figure those hoary old politicos who’ve held their seats for a couple generations will soak up most of the lead – leaving them young, fast-moving freshmen to hide behind all those splintered oaken seats.

Might increase their respect for the office – and give their debate on the ban on lead fishing tackle some small insights.

The 2011 Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation Banquet and Auction was hosted by Amgen, Anheuser-Busch, ATK, Cabela’s, Cox Enterprises, Dallas Safari Club, Diageo, Ford Motor Company, Intermedia Outdoors, National Shooting Sports Foundation, Natural Resource Results, North American Deer Farmers Association, Outdoor Channel, Richard Childress Racing, Safari Club International, Shimano, Sportsman Channel, Wine & Spirits Wholesalers of America and Yamaha Motor Corporation USA.

Six Hundred things removed from Fly Fisherman because the zip code wasn’t exotic enough No. 443

Whether you’re following the teachings of some past master or merely becoming enamored of steelhead fishing, at some point you’ll enter a tangled web of materials poorly suited to fly tying – all of which will be proof against brute force or coaxing …

Most Atlantic Salmon tiers will admit to being frustrated by many aspects of the “olde flyes”, but endure their complexities to remain authentic, knowing so many tiers before them have given up in disgust.

Whether it’s the tail on a steelhead fly or the topping on a salmon hairwing, pheasant crests have always driven tiers to drink, as they’re a three dimensional tie whose bend has to be matched to hook size.

Packaged Pheasant Crest After the bird is scalped these feathers hang forgotten for a couple decades until moth damage requires someone replaces their supply of Royal Coachmen tailing – by then the golden crest is warped into a number of odd directions which we hope will tie flat but know better. 

Subdue the unruly by licking the offending feathers onto a beer can and allow them to dry. They will retain both the shape and drape of the can diameter – as well as all point in the same direction.

 Drying Pheasant Crests

If a sharper bend is needed, simply wet the crests and use a smaller diameter bottle like a pill container. To ensure the crest is perfectly straight, pull the stem once it’s affixed to the beer bottle via spittle. The fibers will pull themselves perfectly straight as a result of your yanking on the stem.

Fly tiers are no strangers to licking beer bottles nor are they reluctant to nurse the leftovers once the cigarette butts are removed. It’s all part of the same downward spiral.

Us fly fishermen have never quibbled about certain labels

There’s nothing better than Science that fits a puzzle piece exactly into an odd shaped void of unexplained phenomenon, making our lives that much more meaningful …

“This is the first study to establish a direct relationship between fish consumption, brain structure and Alzheimer’s risk," said Cyrus Raji, M.D., Ph.D., from the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center and the University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine. "The results showed that people who consumed baked or broiled fish at least one time per week had better preservation of gray matter volume on MRI in brain areas at risk for Alzheimer’s disease."

– via Medicalxpress.com

… giving both us and society one more reason not to limit our kill and farm our limit, and at the same instant neatly explaining why fishermen can’t abide the taste of their quarry, why we’re all destined to have our backsides wiped for us by some truculent male-nurse named “Bruno” …

While embracing Science with both feet, Fly Fishermen have never considered “smartness” of much value, preferring hands unsoiled by bait and pants legs clean of evidence – proof of their pedigree and breeding, never relying on mundane tests like ink blots and Mensa membership.

Guys that stand in cold water are “sturdy”, men that hike miles upstream for small wild fish are “antisocial”. In hindsight, “smart” is the guy that turned us down or had to mow lawn – and while we called him “limpdix” or “wimp” on the way up the hill, on the way back he had bested us morally and physically.

Before you rip into that double Mercury with Cheese, I should point out the asterisks that ensure all the fish death caused by science will be both wasted and pointless …

Eating fried fish, on the other hand, was not shown to increase brain volume or protect against cognitive decline.

Meaning anything made from fish that tastes really stunning or like McDonald’s cardboard will not help you at all, and depending on the source of your new found protein – the chances of you dying of Mercury poisoning or ingesting a tampon are almost certain.

A couple of snorts might make the price of a Sage One more palatable

That left boot full of icy water suggested that my, “It’s fixed!” was a bit premature – and my great idea on how to wake enormous and lethargic fish before Winter’s chill struck appeared to be just as porous …

snakelike_object

Coming from the far side of the siphon pool last week, I’d seen an enormous Pikeminnow and a few large smallmouth at the deep end. Knowing that the biggest Pikeminnow always respond to big bait, I figured to wiggle some ersatz wormlike object through that pool slowly – hoping the bass might inhale the bait as it went by …

… mostly because as the water grows colder most bass stop chasing food, preferring to husband the calories and let the bait come to them. Pikeminnow don’t seem to care about water temperature, which ensures their continued dominance of the food chain, and like them whichever proved hungry would be fine by me.

But I’d missed my chance, and releases from the dam combined with morning’s chill makes the water colder and put a cork in the bass fishing. Even Little Meat opted to wait on the bank instead of treading water nearby.

foodClub1

I caught quite a few smaller fish on a variety of small nymphs, but after sloshing around the creek for a couple hours, the sun’s warmth proved a bigger draw and I opted for the high ground …

“High” being entirely prophetic given the sudden resurgence of “huffing” and the constant reminder that kids and their brain cells are on divergent paths.

Love that Easy Off!

It was no different for our generations other than we had a bit more self respect, opting for aged model glue or teasing nitrous from the whipped cream cans instead of huffing a 12-pack of oven cleaner.

Most of the time it ended badly, with some dimwit flooding both sinuses with pressurized dairy products, but we had respect for the woods and policed our empties, versus leaving them scattered as evidence of our misdeeds.

If memory serves I dropped model making and the dairy industry for fly tying, suggesting it may have been drug use that made brightly colored bits of feather and standing in the rain so appealing …

What’s your excuse?