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I am, I tell you! My column last week was just
my views on fly fishing and those who do it. All
this past week I have been pummeled about the
head and shoulders with everything from a TCR
to an Ibis. Dreadful week and wholly unearned.
Not guilty!
Some progress, however, may have been made. I shall
try to rationalize that it was. I have seen and heard
from a few of the ladies who lurk about on the BB and
mostly know their places. And I have also heard from
many of my old gang as they have attempted to come to
my aid. It is nice to know that some still read me
and even a few actually care.
I think there are only two types of peoples in the
world; those who have to win and those do not have
to. As that should not need to be explained, I will
attempt to do so anyway. I seems some do not
understand me right off, but I shall strive to
maintain. A bit like verbs and nouns; actions
and stuff.
The winners. And yes, bless them, we are mostly born
with a degree of that. Yell loud enough and you get
fed, changed, rocked or whatever. You won. Coming in
last when you are a triplet is to be avoided. The
lead sled dog has the only changing view all day.
Fishing to acquire fish or hunting with a gun or
teaching anyone how to play tennis. Good examples
of winning.
Then there are the non-winners. They are those who
find being fed, rocked, changed, a distraction to
their enjoyment of whatever the hell else was going
on, "don't interrupt me, thank you very much!" They
may indeed be the lead sled dog, but only by way of
being the nicest dog in the bunch. Being the last
triplet can often be negotiated by a big smile or
belch.
Now, hunting and fishing are for the winners, no
doubt about that. Hook 'em, shoot 'em, cook 'em.
Period. Unless. Here it gets muddy; hunting with
a camera, barbless hooks, catch and release; neither
fish nor foul, black or white, liquid or solid.
All shades of gray and areas I will attempt to
avoid for the rest of this discourse. On or off,
hot or cold, in or out; let's stick to those.
For instance. 'She' is casting to a well placed
trout, twelve inches or so, facing upstream in
a gentle seam, mostly visible from where 'She'
crouches some twenty-fire feet behind it. With
measured precision the rod goes air born, the
line assumes its arcs, unrolls the leader and
drops the fly expertly above and just to the
side of the fish. Perfect cast. "What?" 'She'
thinks. "How can that be? I have the right fly,
perfect presentation, flawless drift. Why didn't
he take it? I know, he must have blinked, not
seen the fly. I shall give him another look at
it. I am sure he will go for it this time."
We all know what happens next. 'She' does, and
does, and does again and again. And the fish does
not. Here is where things divide a bit. 'She' now
takes it personally. The stupid fish has insulted
her, her equipment, fishing hat, car, purse and
meal planning ability. (Which may have included fish.)
My good companions, let me tell you right here and
now, do not approach this woman. Not in person or
even by way of voice. A stalemate is in existence.
Do or die. "You have insulted me and I will stay on
your tail until you either take this fly or die of
old age,"'She' purrs. And 'She' will! That is one
of the true signs of a winner, they do not lose!
Or if they ever do, it sure was not their fault.
I have heard some states may be rethinking game
rules and restricting females due to this propensity.
Women who fly fish seem to have this characteristic.
The non-winner would have taken a far different
approach to the above fish. After a few casts
would simply taken what I call the 'Sour-grapes'
attitude and moved on to a fish more worthy of
his abilities. Maybe the thing was asleep or
blind, who cares. Onward, ever onward to the
next adventure. Enjoy it all, the mind numbs
with exhilaration. These are the slight nuances
I was trying to convey in my previous column and
seemed to have failed so miserably in doing.
Environmental and parental conditions probably
have played to some degree in these abnormalities.
Those of you gentlemen who have found such creatures
should treasure them above all else, lest they leave
you for someone who will. Those of long tooth and
grey whiskers already know that but it is to the
younger I address the idea. Think not that all are
like yours. They most assuredly are not. If she can
cast, tie flies, knots, land a fish with the proper
decorum, and still fulfill all of the nominal skills
required of her kind, treat her as the gem she in
fact is.
If she is not as described, well, refer to my
last column.
And, in closing, to those of you who have yet to
find the object which you pursue. Look not in the
gin-mills and swank joints of our world, but rather
in the nooks and crannies of our blue-ribbon trout
streams and along the banks of our tree lined farm
ponds and tanks. The places where your game is most
likely to be found, frolicking nymphet-like amongst
the bevies of bowers and fluttering flowers of our
grand outdoors. ~ JC
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