Category Archives: fishing

Interest in fishing on the rise, but so is the demand for Tartar Sauce

The new mayonaisse The only thing we can agree on is no one is speaking with certainty. In simplistic terms the entire financial debacle was the “deleveraging” of the financial systems mix of  assets and liabilities from nearly 30-1, to the government recommended model of 10-1.

Economists suggest that until the consumer does likewise, paying off about 30% of their existing liabilities, things won’t be improving anytime soon.

“America is redefining what is normal,” says Edward Callaway, CEO of Callaway Gardens, a popular golf-and-swimming resort near Columbus, Ga. “What’s normal is a lot more frugal, a lot less extravagant than it used to be.”

Given that preamble, fishing tackle sales are reported to be robust, state park campgrounds are replacing exotic venues, and folks are staying closer to home – as gas prices continue to increase.

Many people may skip expensive trips and go fishing instead, says Michael Brooks, CEO of Ardent, a Macon, Mo.-based company that makes fishing gear. Sales at his privately held firm are up 200% in the past year, he says. “The recession is making people think twice about where they’re spending their recreational dollars,” he says.

Recreation dollars or subsistence dollars is the real question, as even MSNBC’s favorite stock market “talking head,” Jim Cramer is touting “the garden effect,” buying stocks in seed companies and the folks that makes Roundup.

This “new frugal” smacks of putting free chow on the table versus a true surge in Outdoors appreciation, and us fly fishermen aren’t likely to be the “new normal” – as we’re still wandering around releasing food and complaining about other folks stepping on our insects.

We’ll never be normal, I’m proud to say.

The high end merchants are a likely barometer for our rod industry – as all those new rod sales are most likely Uglysticks, and not the fancy stuff.

Neiman Marcus, whose sales declined 25% in the first quarter of 2009,  Tiffany’s (after laying off 10% of their workforce), lost 22% of same store sales, and Aberchrombie & Fitch reported a 24% decline..

With known layoffs at Winston, Orvis and Gudebrod, Bass Pro, and others, with us practitioners reluctant to drive further away, the economics are still pretty bleak – but may be building toward a less crowded vacation – for those that are still able.

The Brethren aren’t faring too well. My notes from the eBay study of 2007, suggest the number of used Hardy reels for sale are up a staggering 50% – and prices are up in the face of this glut, not down. Folks are struggling to make mortgage payments and The Precious is sold reluctantly – for prices nearing unrealistic.

Ditto for most of the major reel makers and fine rods – fly fishing items offered are up double digits across the board. Orvis eBay rods are showing in greater numbers, up 31% – and a lot of that is Orvis bamboo, suggesting anglers are selling the high end items – and fishing the yeoman graphite offering.

Not too pleasant, but don’t start counting your discounts anytime soon, with a fiat currency, the fourth horseman, Inflation – is rounding the final turn – and the thousand dollar fly rod will be here for awhile.

Stranger than fiction, odd fishing laws still on the books

Silly string has a season? I discovered the below list on a web page since forgotten. Makes you wonder about all those expensive Montana fly fishing seminars for women – and whether a citizen’s arrest isn’t in the offing… 

In California it is a misdemeanor to shoot at any kind of game from a moving vehicle, unless your target is a whale.

Idaho residents cannot fish from a giraffe’s or camel’s back.

It is illegal in Ohio to get a fish drunk. Also in this state do not go fishing for whales on a Sunday, It’s a no, no.

Don’t get caught catching crabs in Sarasota, Florida.

In Oklahoma and Seattle, Washington it is illegal to carry a fishbowl or aquarium onto a public bus because the sound of the splashing water may disturb other passengers.

It is illegal to catch a fish in Kansas with your bare hands.

You may not catch a fish in Pennsylvania with any body part except your mouth. Also dynamite cannot be used to catch fish.

Tennessee law says it is illegal to catch fish by lasso. (Too bad, it would make it so much easier to carry them back to the trailer park).

It’s illegal to fish from horseback in Utah.

In Muncie, Indiana it’s a crime to carry fishing tackle into a cemetery.

It is illegal in Vermont to whistle underwater. (Not to mention pointless, stupid and down right impossible).

Montana wins the prize in my opinion for stupid laws. It’s illegal for married women to go fishing alone on Sundays, and illegal for unmarried women to fish alone at all. It is also against the law for a man to knit during fishing season. This one is not fish related but definitely worth a mention… It is illegal to have a sheep in the cab of your truck without a chaperone. (There go my Saturday night plans).

Across the pond

Scotland– You cannot fish at all on Sundays.

Liverpool, England– It is illegal for a woman to be topless in public except as a clerk in a tropical fish store.

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Perhaps the Pristine is only a memory as well

The all too familiar Rather than giggle about what’s on my waders you may want to test yours.

The California Department of Water Resources has been testing 100 California lakes per year for a litany of pesticides, toxins, and Mercury, and of the 152 results released to date, 86% of the lakes will get warning labels.

As we’d expect the high elevation Sierra lakes comprise the bulk of the 21 testing “clean” (less than governmental guidelines), and the balance have at least one chemical that exceeds the government’s recommended exposure.

The all too familiar, “..pregnant women and children should eat one meal per ..” label will be greeting you in the parking lot.

About one-fourth of the lakes surveyed had at least one fish species with a mercury level high enough that state health officials would consider prohibiting it for the most sensitive humans – pregnant and nursing women, women between 18 and 45 years old who might conceive and children.

Naturally anything emptying out of the lakes is similarly afflicted, ditto for everything swimming in that too. Squirting them waders with 409 might be the cleanest thing they’ve seen in awhile …

They’re planted but I wouldn’t call them Peanuts

I’ve always keenly followed angling in Europe as a portent of what we can expect. Our brethren “across the pond” have had an extra thousand years to civilize their landscape, and many of their practices and restrictions are headed our way … with time.

 They call him El Diablo

Fascinating to me is the concept of named fish – and how carp anglers will flock to a certain impoundment knowing that “Old Breadcrust” – when last caught weighed 87 pounds, has packed on a few kilograms more.

Many years ago, one of the fellows I fished with had names for specific fish in a specific run he’d fish nightly. Hearing the score card was a little creepy, ” I caught Alan and Chad, foul hooked Bob in the arse with a Little Yellow Stone, right after breaking off George.”

A voice from one of the other cars in the darkened parking lot, “Oh, you finally broke it off with George?”

Me, I peel waders innocently counting on darkness to hide my grin.

I’ve named quite a few fish in the dirt water – most because of distinguishing characteristics; unnatural lust for a certain fly, missing body parts, or something similar – but mostly I’ve always thought of the practice as reason to fish somewheres else.

“Legendary” fish gives an interesting slant – provided the names are appropriately evil, desperate, or vicious. “I busted a cap in TinkerBelle’s ass.” – could lead to another darkened parking lot exchange – or tears streaming down the face of a child, and both should be avoided.

It certainly makes explaining “catch & release” easy, how the fish gets bigger if he’s allowed to live. Perhaps we’ll get to stop preaching and spend more time practicing that concept.

As we migrate to private impoundments and association-owned stillwater, it’ll offer the proprietor a steady source of revenue – as care and maintenance should influence growth, thereby making his fish notorious and worthy of a multiple hour drive.

When the world record dies of old age, we’ll get dozens of “Loch Ness” sightings; pre-dawn monsters seen by the red rimmed eyes of grizzled locals – hushed whispers in the parking lot over cold thermos coffee, while the distraught dogwalker asks had we seen Fluffy…

“Hey Bob, bet ‘Old Razorblade’ is burping up a dog collar …”

As always there’ll be some uniquely American slant to the affair so we can claim we invented it, my bet is we’ll eschew the “boilie” concept in favor of the single, artificial …

… Deep Fried Twinkie.

Do we really want to split hairs on who’s greener

Play nice with the addicts 40 Rivers to Freedom posted a link outlining the toxic hazards of cigarette butts to fish and how researchers in San Diego want filter tipped cigarettes classified as toxic waste.

I hadn’t considered my use of foul smelling cheap cheroots as “green” – but now I’ll get to blow smoke rings and claim the moral high ground.

Everyone knows cigarette smokers are filthy creatures…

On the other hand, it begs the question “what kills whom the quickest,” as this might be self regulating. My perverse side insists that us disgusting, weed-burning, pre-cancerous litterbugs, mince about with little dog crapper bags – blushing while we stoop to capture the nasty…

Then I realize how that’ll play in the cheap seats, lending itself to more of the effete, snobbery label – which most of us despise.

For those stalwarts fishing the chemical backwater it’s essential equipment akin to wading staff or vest. A snap of the fingers and the coal of my toxic cheroot arches into the milky water ahead – if there’s no corresponding mushroom cloud or fireball – I know it’s safe to wade.

I am amused at the vitriol of even the tiniest of transgressions. Witness what transpires in a forgotten and filthy watershed, and after you’ve crapped in the creek and tossed your empty polyethylene water bottle to bob in my currents – do you really have the right to claim my cigarette butt is the root of all evil?

We’re so concerned about the symptoms – we’ve long since forgotten the problem.

SDSU Public Health Professor Tom Novotny and other members of the Cigarette Butt Advisory Group plan to recommend that filtered cigarette butts should have new requirements for disposal.

Nice. Now that you’ve settled the issue, why not focus on dead cars, leaking chemical drums, and the medical waste next to that flaccid ciggy?

… and we do so in full knowledge that it hurts

make a sea kitten winceIt’s a hotly debated topic among fish scientists, whether fish feel pain in the same manner as humans, despite differences in nervous systems and cognitive abilities.

Being a lay person, I’ve always been skeptical of the “cognitive” theory, which suggests fish cannot feel pain due to the lack of higher brain function. Knowing the efficiencies of Mother Nature, it seems unnecessary to build different versions of the same thing – when one pain mechanism would serve both plant and animal.

Simplistic to be sure, but recent research suggests that fish feel pain in the same fashion as we do.

The experiment shows that fish do not only respond to painful stimuli with reflexes, but change their behavior also after the event,” Nordgreen said. “Together with what we know from experiments carried out by other groups, this indicates that the fish consciously perceive the test situation as painful and switch to behaviors indicative of having been through an aversive experience.”

Research on Rainbow Trout adds additional evidence the scientific community may soon reverse their belief that “pain” was merely a reflexive motion in fish – not a perceptive response.

The present study examined the acute effects of administering a noxious chemical to the lips of rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) to assess what changes occurred in behaviour and physiology. There was no difference in swimming activity or use of cover when comparing the noxiously stimulated individuals with the controls. The noxiously treated individuals performed anomalous behaviours where they rocked on either pectoral fin from side to side and they also rubbed their lips into the gravel and against the sides of the tank. Opercular beat rate (gill or ventilation rate) increased almost double fold after the noxious treatment whereas the controls only showed a 30% increase. Administering morphine significantly reduced the pain-related behaviours and opercular beat rate and thus morphine appears to act as an analgesic in the rainbow trout. It is concluded that these pain-related behaviours are not simple reflexes and therefore there is the potential for pain perception in fish.

This is big news on the science front, but will be even bigger with PETA and the eco-fringe. Now that we can make “sea-kittens” cry, and knowingly maiming them for sport, we can expect another bevy of Hollywood actresses to disrobe for their defense.

Lucky us.

It won’t really change anything for us brutish fishermen unless they learn to yell. In the interim, we’ll do our best to quickly unhook the beast – and if it continues to flop around while we release it, we’ll mutter, “Man up, dammit.”

Is the fast action rod etched indelibly on young minds?

Are future generations of fishermen being subtly pre-programmed to prefer the fast action rod?

Singlebarbed’s penchant for “conspiracy” is well documented; we’ve always preferred word-of-mouth to facts – and if it’s carved into a bathroom stall or penned sloppily near a pay phone we know it’s gospel.

We’ve seen OPEC and endured OGRE, the Organization of Graphite Rod Exporters, but this latest entry smacks of something much more sinister.

XBox 360 Fast Action rod

Only the rubber cap bends, making this an extremely fast action rod capable of trimming hedges, can be employed as an ersatz Lightsaber, and is capable of spearing domestic pets.

The Strike puts the fishing rod in players’ hands as they head out to their favorite fishing holes, including ten of North America’s greatest lakes.  Featuring realistic lake bottom topography, advanced graphics, life-like fish behaviors, fully customizable characters and an abundance of boats, lures, rods and reels, The Strike offers virtual anglers the most realistic fishing game experience to-date.

Blame Bass Pro Shops for the Fall 2009 release of “The Strike” – we’ll see whether it’s the kiddies or Poppa with nose pressed against the glass come Christmas.

One quick cut with the Sawzall, mount that old Pfleuger Medalist with sliding bands of duct tape and lookout …

Available for the Wii and XBox 360, Fall 2009. $69.95 for game and controller.

Like minded friends are nice, but the reward is better

edibles-alert.jpgWe may be at a crossroads with health and well being on the one hand, and allegiance to environmental principles on the other.

While the “Talking heads” assure us the worst is over, and the President’s cabinet stump the streets doing likewise, reports continue to surface of the rebirth of angling, sustenance variety

“Belt tightening” is the rage of cocktail parties, and forswearing of luxury the new esthetic – with woeful tales of suffering and deprivation swapped between mouthfuls of Starbuck’s and Cinnabon.

“Foraging” is the rallying cry of the neo-sporting fraternity, their food-lust indiscriminate; weeds and tubers, fish in park ponds, and anything with four legs that doesn’t alert neighbors.

Distinctions between brown and blue are blurred with survivalists intent on cheap eats – and as they shove their way into the crowd of us old timer’s, do we attempt to educate, or merely guard our lunch and walk further afield?

  • Chauncey Niziol fishes for bass and bluegills in downtown Chicago.
  • Steven Rinella traps squirrels and catches pigeons in Brooklyn, N.Y.

The chances that Chauncey and Steven have cracked the fish and game regulations are slim. Trifling detail like season, tackle restrictions, and  licensing probably hasn’t occurred to them.

Steven, “squab” is a grand meal, unfortunately MSNBC didn’t bother to check the regulations, and now you’re featured in absolutely every Post Office.

So where does that leave us? Tapping the fellow on the shoulder and mentioning the need for a valid NY Trappers license, or merely admiring how many pigeons over the “six in possession” limit he’s draped on his fender?

A street sweeper employed by the Doe Fund, a charity that employs homeless New Yorkers to clean city streets, picked up a $2,500 bonus last month by defending the pigeons on the Upper East Side. According to In Defense of Animals, Desi Stewart witnessed a man spreading bird seed on the ground and “netting a large number of pigeons.”

… or are we the guy putting chow on the table after “dropping dime” on the clueless n00b?

Longtime Singlebarbed readers are fitting themselves for ponchos, slim cheroots, and practicing the “Bounty Killer” swagger popularized by Spaghetti Westerns …

… but the activity has riled the venerable New York Bird Club, and suddenly the prospect of Clint’s icy voice coming from the nearby shrubbery would be the least of my worries…

Hell hath no fury like an Old Lady crumbling a crust of bread for pigeons. Driven by her screams, the crowd wouldn’t be content with anything short of dismemberment.

Them or us and Cabela’s picks Them?

PinkGun I’m not sure all those “helpful” spouses would’ve been so eager to dump their gal at the “ladies only adventure day camp” if they’d known Cabela’s was arming them.

Gals and guns is no issue, but my girlfriend armed with “non lethal” weaponry would crimp my angling forever. The luxury of a shotgun, assault rifle, or large bore handgun means she’ll pause for just a split second, consider the consequences, then empty the entire magazine in my direction.

That’s enough time to put a school bus between me and the Never Ending Banana Clip, just enough to hug the floorboards as the windshield is sawn in half, and when she pauses to reload – I’m disappearing around the corner on two wheels and free to fish once again.

Pink handled hoglegs have an air of permanence, it’s not as if you’re assembling gear and call up the hallway. “Dearest? have you seen my .357? Never mind, I’ll just use yours …”

Sounds suspiciously like the sporting manufacturers have given up on us penny pinching males, and have cast their lot with the Missus.

At the camp, women will participate in introductory courses on casting fishing lines, using Tasers, handling shotguns and other topics. During lunch, a hunting and outdoor apparel fashion show is planned.

In theory, the workshops hook women on a new hobby, potentially creating a Cabela’s customer for life.

One longing glance at your vest and you’ll endure 50000 volts of raw energy crackle through an arse cheek – and as your vision dims and the world turns black, you’ll hear the throaty reminder, “No, you promised to do the lawn, remember?”

It’d be Woody Allen and the “Orgasmatron” all over again, with her pumping the Taser button while society crumbles around you…

We’ll all be stuffing a National Geographic down our pants hoping the darts are diffused by the Aborigine article – just like the butt whippings we took as kids.

That’ll be a WMD, weapon of Mosquito Destruction

We’ve assumed we needed to preserve the outdoors for future generations, but we may have been hasty. These are urban sophisticates raised on Xbox and Halo, and angry bears and bolt action rifles may be too tame to sustain their interest for more than seven minutes.

Thanks to science, I’m not even sure I want to go fishing anymore – now that I’m “heeled” with my handheld mosquito laser.

I can remember the first time I saw the cold blue light of the BugZapper, how I howled in glee with every burst of sparks, and the smoky spiral of another victim. It was awful tempting not to drop trousers and moon the bloodsucking squadrons destined for my tender posterior.

Gleeful cries of “you want summa this?” and “come get some” were mingled with the steady “bzzzt”, “bzzzt” of six legged executions. When the power went off – we ran inside and hid, shivering.

Now, we’ve got options:

In experiments, the system could target mosquitoes with a flashlight, and then uses a zoom lens to feed the data to the computer, which fires at the insect. Each time the laser strikes a mosquito, the computer makes a gunshot sound. When the mosquito is hit, it bursts into flame and falls to the ground, and a thin plume of smoke rises.

Call me the Two Gun Kid. I may even return to guiding so’s I can protect wagon trains of tenderfeet from marauding wildlife, “… the Kid’s hammy hands were a blur in the noonday sun, twin Colts roared to life …”

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSIWpFPkYrk[/youtube]

What kid would even consider fishing under the circumstances?

For us cagey older types immersed in the Catch and Release doctrine, will we succumb to setting our phasers to Stun, then winging Mayflies and Caddis to create our own hatch?

Nothing like struggling insects on the surface to trigger feeding trout. What dad would have the backbone not to employ Junior as his wingman?

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