Category Archives: fly fishing humor

Singlebarbed adds measure of doubt to legal proceedings

Fonda does Jury My streak of 33 years without being called to Jury Duty, is over.

I’ve received sage council from the folks at work; how I can spot a guilty fellow a mile away, it being an innate skill … Carry a copy of “Mein Kampf” under my elbow, and mumble a lot to no one in particular …

… start the dissertation with, “I’ve been diagnosed with Swine Flu” and snarkle noisily as I wipe nose on shirt sleeve … It all seems a bit childish as once His Honor finds out I’m a fly fisherman – that should be indictment enough.

Izaak Walton insisted we were the introspective intellectual, yet Herman Melville quashed that notion with his vengeful and bitter Captain Ahab. Hemingway attempted to make us “wise old men” – but was undone by a couple of “slasher” movies and the resurgence of the Somali fisher-privateers.

Having guided an innordinate number of lawyers and judges in my youth, those precious fly selection skills may serve me well. I’ll just glad-hand the Judge on my way to the podium, mention that “Titty bar” I saw him at on the Trinity, and I’ll be off the panel and back at work within the hour.

Excuses are akin to fly selection; many will work only some work better than others.

Tags: fly fishermen, rogues, knaves, jury duty, Herman Melville, Izaak Walton, Somali pirates

Panama Canal sees first Atlantic Salmon run

Green Blue Another mass escape from a British Columbia fish farm unleashes 40,000 Atlantic Salmon into the Pacific Northwest.

… funny how Salmon of any species avoid the “invasive” label, despite their home waters some 3000 miles distant.

In traditional fashion, the farmed fish industry has responded with “no worries, it won’t happen again, sorry ..” – while the environmental crowd is forming a lynch mob.

I’ll take the middle road and find some untrammeled piece of beach on the Panama Canal and be the sudden beneficiary of a massive surge of tired, lost fish…

“However we do know that some survive because small numbers have returned to some rivers,” said Backman. “There is potential for some to survive.”

… they’ll be damn tired of anchovies by then – and my Green Highlander’s and Jock Scott’s will look awful damn tasty.

Tags: farmed fish escape, Atlantic Salmon release, Marine Harvest Canada, green highlander, jock scott,

Meet the Savior of the Brown Water, the Oil Spill Gordon

Thraulodes_Quevedoensis There’s a certain contentment knowing coarse fish will be around to confuse and entertain future generations of fly fishermen. They’ll be speaking with the same awe of “Silver’s”, “Grass”, and “Common’s” that we’ve reserved for Brown, Brook, and Rainbow.

… and while they’ll continue to siphon mud for hints of protein, we’ll still be able to gear up for dusk and the traditional hatch of dry flies…

thraulodes_nymph All those Catskill dries will have long vanished into antiquity, replaced by the Savior of the Tainted Water, the Thraulodes quevedoensis.

Discovered this year in Ecuador, the Thraulodes Mayfly appears to be pollution insensitive and thrives on concrete, human waste, and radiation.

United States protocols assume mayflies collectively are indicators of high water quality, but the Thraulodes quevedoensis signals that the assumption might not be entirely true in the lowland tropics of South America.

Flowers offered his theory on why this species of mayflies is able to tolerate the polluted conditions of the river, which gets sewage directly from the city and agricultural pollutants from farms upstream.

“During the wet season, the river gets torrential rains from the Andes Mountains,” he said. “During the dry season there are shallow spots in the river and algae grows. This can act as a purification system, and I believe this can keep the pollutants below critical level.”

The flies of tomorrow may sound similar, but us brownline types thrive on a hint of humor mixed with a leavening of pure insouciance, evidenced by our lust for the Fan Winged Corn Niblet, the Light Twinkie, and Oil Spill Gordon.

… the Bad News is future generations will be just as pissed, especially when their savior sports a 5.6mm body length … an #18 if they’re lucky …

Tags: Thraulodes Quevedoensis, pollution insensitive mayfly, Equador, Dr. Will Flowers, Catskill dry fly

We mourn our creek by testing the mettle of what our water grew

Sure I’m bitter and resentful but as a lay scientist I thought I’d find out first hand which is higher in my esteem, cheap produce or inedible fish.

If we measure just the carbon footprint, fish win. But as half of the populace disagrees with it being an issue, and despite my frantic attempts at dodging semi’s loaded with bell peppers and tomatoes, it’s a poor measure of inherent value.

I needed a common metric that was unimpeachable, some simplistic test that would be readily apparent to the casual onlooker, yet was based solely on the respective merits of the two species.

At ease in the current

Bell Peppers aren’t bad on pizza or a good hearty stew, and assuming the flatulence they cause is due to potential energy stored within its fibrous core, would that translate into a horrific struggle when they feel the sting of steel, or would it be like most produce – requiring farm machinery and a good waxing before showing signs of life?

The biggest Capsicum like an "ass down, stem up" sunny lie

Capsicum don’t range far for food, but don’t spook much either. They take surface flies extremely well as most of their food is delivered aerially – by both plane and tractor. Patience, coupled with their cunning predatory instincts allows them to remain motionless and invisible – despite the noise and commotion of nearby farm equipment.

The Pepper Cast, Right at 'em I caught this gaggle of “Red’s” growing flaccid in the sunlight – approaching them directly and casting right at the alpha bell itself …

As I’d never landed a bell pepper in full mating plumage, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

They’re bulky and muscular and retain their texture despite frying, boiling, or baking, so I was hoping they’d give a reasonable account of themselves – some small payback for extincting the fish in my creek.

I felt a brief jolt when I stripped the fly through the pack and set hook tentatively, unsure whether to get the reel handle clear of the vest or whether to duck to avoid incoming angered Capsicum. The lead pepper was clearly startled by the hook – and came out of the rye grass like an avenging angel …

The Great Waldo Pepper, hisself

Airborne and headed away in a hurry, and I’m frantically “bowing” to the beast each time it clears the fescue.

It stem-walked towards a couple of fir trees, and I’m leaning into the butt section trying to steer opposite – thankful that I’d rigged an 0X tippet.

It was plain this wasn’t merely a red pepper, it was likely a “Waldo” Pepper – known for aerial hyjinks and often sport a similar coloration when drinking heavily or during harvest months…

I start gaining line back, I may land it

The leader knot is getting close and I entertain visions of landing this brute. I’d tucked a plain brown double-bagger into my vest hoping sight of a familiar shopping bag with its welcoming Halloween colors and festive label would serve me better than the expected violence once “Waldo” spied the unfamiliar net.

The hero shot, with upchuck

Like the Roma tomato I fought earlier, aerial antics appear to jostle the delicate internal organs of Capsicum Annum as well. It’s unfortunate, despite the heroics shown early in the fight, these internal injuries tend to take the starch out of the quarry if the battle is prolonged.

Any chance of “Catch and Release” will require a firm authoritative hand on the rod in order to keep the fight decisive and short.

As the rest of the bushel was alert to my presence, I faded back onto the patio and let them “cool” a little.

In summary, a tenacious yet fragile foe. A bit of Smallmouth bass mixed with the aerial grace of a deflated football, try not to get any on you …

They’re not a complete replacement for my beloved Salmon, Pikeminnow, Carp, and all the other tainted inhabitants of the local waters … but if I was “hope to die” desperate and needed to get bit, they’d be right up there with rabid dogs and hookers.

Tags: Capsicum Annum, red bell pepper, angling for vegetables, catch and release, fly fishing humor, tippet, rabid dogs, hookers

Why we’re never consulted on game design

I’ve got more than my fair share of hideous vices but gambling hasn’t been one of them…

… actually I should retract that, as fishermen are among the most egregious gamblers known, we risk time, money, and domestic bliss on every throw of the rod.

it was the fly that caught my attention

It was the fly that caught my attention. A small blurb about the launch of three new online slot games, and while the fishing theme struck a chord I still couldn’t figure how it would translate to the degenerate gambling crowd.

When the fisherman appears on reels 1 and 5 at the same time, the Fly Fishing Bonus begins. During this bonus game, you’ll be able to choose 5 fish from the river in front of you. The fish have multiplier prizes ranging from 2X to 15X.

I guess they figure fly fishing was such a sure thing that you just point at the fish and they swim to your feet, light the charcoal and fillet themselves …

The game designer is obviously a genius with zero’s and one’s – but he’s never fished in his (or her) life. We know the reality:

… When the fisherman appears on reels 1 and 5 at the same time, the Fly Fishing Bonus begins. During this bonus game, you’ll insert 15 more coins, resulting in a blast of arctic air from the console, and a small spigot will appear waist high and pizzle icy water down your pants leg.

You’ll be able to see 5 fish from the river in front of you, three will be too deep, one will be out of casting range, and the last one – the largest, will simply ignore you.

Not likely to set any casino records for coin inhalation – what with a bunch of guys holding newspapers on their lap so the waitress doesn’t see the spreading dampness.

… not to mention her asking for ID every time she brings a watered down drink.

Tags: online casino, fly fishing game, Alaska fishing, degenerate gamblers, degenerate fishermen, fly fishing for money, vices, gambling fishermen

How to jumpstart a legend

It’s Life’s Darkest Moment. All them hours painstakingly crafting a weekend trip to a trophy lake known only to a handful of trustworthy associates who aren’t, and its azure beauty has been despoiled by hordes of fly fishermen from some club somewheres …

Normally you don’t mind sharing, but those thousands of pre-trip hours spent daydreaming in your cubicle sold you on solitude, voracious fish, and the entire wilderness experience.

Not to worry.

Singlebarbed's Farce FinsAct nonchalant as you change out your fins for the Singlebarbed’s “Farce Fins.” Paddle through their fish and once all eyes are focused on you, lift a foot out of the water, scream – and beat a trail of froth back to the beach.

A squeeze bottle of Ketchup tucked in the bib of your waders completes the effect.

While you sob on the sand, to the consternation of the assembled throng and their apprehensive spouses, produce some frayed object and claim it’s a bite mark from a hideous gigantic beast that thought you were a food group.

Skeptics will be pulled from the water by their wives, no need to be too convincing, just remember to gasp Loch Ness rather than Elliot Ness ..

Tags: Float tube, Loch Ness, Elliot Ness, Mermaid fins, fly fishing stillwater, Ketchup, life’s darkest moment

Will smart gadgets be as fashionable if they’re honest?

Maxwell Smart, Gadget Freak You can only wrap graphite or mount cork on a cylinder in so many ways. Once you’ve run through the gamut of blank colors, off setting trim, and hook keepers, why not mimic Microsoft and start adding stuff no one asked for?

Especially now that all the gadgets will be getting smart …

Wi-Fi Direct will make it easier to liberate the mounting gigabytes of digital family photos that are trapped in cameras, smart phones or PCs. Now those gadgets will be able to connect directly to digital photo frames, TVs or printers.

Add Twitter into the mix and every hooked fish, tree limb, and extremity can be immortalized in a vast stream of consciousness guaranteed to have the folks at home blowing snot bubbles.

Temp 54F. Wind SE 10 mph. Tree contact. Rock. Elevated angler blood pressure. Fish miss – estimate 4”. Vertical attitude adjustment. Sensor submerged. submerged. lateral drift. Angler vocal …photograph taken, posted to Facebook…

Back at the office, we’ll be undressed in mid pantomime – while insisting the fish was 18” long and fought for hours, when everyone’s already seen our Facebook page and listened to us swearing over the Twitter feed.

Rod companies can imbed cameras, sensors, weights and measurement, dispense fly floatant or insect repellant from the rod handle, and record it all for posterity – uploading it to the Internet as soon as we get within cell coverage.

Fly fishermen and the gadget obsession is the stuff of legend, but without complete control over content and censorship, we’d never ask for a “smart” rod that made an accurate record of our outing.

… leaving the rod companies to insist we need it, that it’s lighter than air, and spin our skepticism into something we think necessary and vital.

With a memory stick tucked in the vest and device-to-device communication we could store thousands of images and sensory data that would be embarrassing to us – yet a boon to science. We’re willing to abandon felt soles for the Greater Good, why not embrace honesty for an even greater fisheries reward?

… until that fellow up-riffle sidles closer, hacks into our data and starts downloading all the flies we’ve tried and their result. The canny angler will have his “master caution” light start to blink at first intrusion so he can grab a smart rock and …

Tags: Wifi Direct, fly fishing gadgets, facebook, twitter, Internet, smart rods, graphite, fly floatant, fisheries

Where we make like Imelda Marcos and still spend the night on the couch

The telltale squeal of feminine voices has me tightening my grip on Sweetpea’s arm, an attempt to steer her clear of a consumptive orgy while maintaining possession of wallet, credit cards, and our immediate destiny.

We’ve inadvertently stumbled across a sale whose neatly stacked boxes and fearful clerks are about to be trampled in a rush of appreciative females.

Sensing my sudden attempt to steer opposite, and while I’m flirting with an icy stare and a lifetime of penance, someone screams one of the many Fly Fishing Reserved Words …

“… Ooo, they’ve got Stoneflies! …”

Like any dutiful spouse, I reverse course to throw elbows and chop-block the opposition while my “running back” gingerly tiptoes over the corpses and bleeding shoppers in my wake.

The Stonefly shoe

… and yes, I was completely taken in. Nothing whatsoever to do with fishing.

The clerk looks me over with distaste and just before he summons the mall cops, I seize the bit …

Got any wading boots?”

The sudden silence attests to my genius, I’m no longer the brutish lout that stepped on little kids and Grandma – I’m now a shopping “Alpha Dog” – who fought his way to the front while the pack snarls over my table scraps…

The clerk stammers, “I don’t believe we have any of those …?”

Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Now it’s Madam’s turn to pull me away from the suddenly appreciative throng. A pear-shaped fellow that can “Sale-fu” as well as the Sisterhood is a hot commodity.

Fly fishing’s reserved words should never be plastered on tawdry products – it’s akin to yelling “fire” in a darkened theater.

Tags: Stonefly shoes, yelling fire in a theater, clingers, epic fail, fly fishing reserved words,

She got the blind eye and I got the gut

She looks unconvinced The lads at Fly Talk have dropped the proverbial fashion bombshell. For 2010 the well dressed fashionista will be daubing Starbucks from Jock Scott’s profile – while snarling at their apologetic concierge.

We might consider a counter campaign considering it’s the rare and venerable being desecrated.

I was wearing Silver Doctors before Silver Doctors were cool” – “She got the flies and I got the hook” or similar whine of protest…

Better dust off that cheesy Christmas wrapping and Royal Coachmen monogrammed kerchiefs you’ve got languishing in a darkened drawer … fly fishing is back, with a scowl.

Then again, you could attempt a spousal conversion – but judging from the terse expression on the model, she appears uncertain whether her fate is catcalls or giggles.

The hair is completely authentic however. Styled by strong winds, rigidity provided by generous application of insect repellant and sunscreen, tamed only by a curly brim applied via cracked gas station mirror.

Tags: salmon fly fashion, Fly Talk, Silver Doctor, Jock Scott, Giles

Science proves fishermen aren’t People

Except Fishermen Reading the article is like having your buddy lean over at the conclusion of your Chinese lunch and mention, “add the words ‘in bed’ to your fortune.”

In a set of recent experiments, researchers at the University of Rochester in New York monitored the effects of natural versus artificial environments — and found that nature actually makes us nicer. 

Only in this case, add “except fishermen” to every paragraph.

Previous studies have shown the health benefits of nature range from more rapid healing to stress reduction to improved mental performance and vitality

… except fishermen.

We use Nature to inflict a dizzying assortment of twisted ligaments, contusions, bug bites, blisters, wind burns, frozen limbs, peeling extremities, lacerations, imbedded objects, and broken limbs.

… we’ve got suppurating infections, exposure to hazardous chemicals, radioactive waste, and loud music.

If the fly doesn’t land where we want, if the fish doesn’t immediately eat it, if the wind doesn’t stop, if the felt doesn’t grip – it’s elevated blood pressure, and a string of blood curdling epithets.

Five hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic to fish in horizontal sleet or driving rain is not proof of “improved mental performance.”

Now we’ve found nature brings out more social feelings, more value for community and close relationships. People are more caring when they’re around nature

… except fishermen.

We abandon spouse and children, snarl at anyone encroaching on our riffle, hide our fly box from the curious, and lie about success and failure. Our only lasting relationship is with the clerk at the gas station – source of important toiletries, embalmed cuisine, and fuel.

Fisherman ain’t People. No way.

Tags: nature, science, fishermen, damn lies and statistics, fishermen ain’t people, fly fishing humor