Bait fishing wasn’t so bad, especially after we discovered which of our dumb-assed buddies was really interested in fishing, and which were there just to break rods.
Lure fishing was better. We were suddenly agile – no longer rooted. Fishing became seduction versus sitting motionless hoping to be victimized. Fly fishing was better yet, we could tweak even more variables and influence the “eat, don’t eat” decision on levels beyond mere presentation and retrieve.
Yet fishing is a series of indignities, and as we mature both as individuals and fishermen we find elements better suited to our individual needs and unique rewards system. We don’t lose all of our past history, traces of each stage in our development linger and influence both our angling and personal tastes.
Some of my foibles can be traced back to my earliest angling efforts. Pautzke’s “Balls of Fire” and the discovery they were available in an ersatz cheddar-like flavor.
I was a purist even in those days, and carried my jug with its green and white lid in a battered tacklebox filled with snelled gold hooks and stained Kastmasters I’d pried off tree limbs during low water.
It could of been Skoal, Marlboro’s or any of the other brand conscious dalliances we discovered later, in my eyes it was purely a gelatinous killing machine, and my youthful naiveté hadn’t yet formed the Big Question; how salmon and trout would ever see each other in a landlocked impoundment.
That all changed with Watergate…
My predilection for fishing being well known, I was gifted a new green tacklebox containing much needed supplies. Perched in the lower section was the familiar Pautzke’s label, but the lid was white and the eggs were orange …
Fishing was damn slow that day and I remember opening that jug gingerly … any fool knows that real salmon eggs are bright crimson, so bright that when you wipe your hands on blue jeans even Ma complains.
I mashed the first one expecting the same reaction as the crimson flavor, but the cheddar egg simply discolored a bit and turned into something you’d as soon not have clinging to extremities – much less step in …
It was the call of “angling science” that prompted the second one to get mashed between teeth, the fishing being slow, the lake being remote, and someone else forgetting their lunch and borrowing half of mine …
I’ve no stomach for caviar to this day, and frankly don’t give a damn what the Good Stuff costs, it’s goddamn bait.
Tags: Pautzke’s Balls of Fire, salmon eggs, caviar, sturgeon roe, trout roe, fish eggs, tastes like nasty,
Fishing statistics are so rare I can’t help but pounce on them when offered. Like most pitchmen I’ll spin the numbers to prove something horrific and discard the facts enroute to a shaky conclusion.
While the UK is still mourning their lost brute Benson, 
