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This is the time of year when I wish no one
knew I was a fly fisher. Between my birthday
(3 days before Christmas-mark your calendars)
and Christmas, I'll receive more than my fair
share of well-intentioned fly fishing gifts
that will be thoroughly useless. And while
that might sound ungrateful, it's true.
Those who don't fly fish can't grasp the fact
that a fly rod can cost $600, a reel $500;
line $60; hell, it's hard to grasp for those
of us who do. And as most gift givers
frequent stores like WalMart, not Orvis (if
they did they'd be familiar with the $600 rod),
guess where the gift for the family fly fisher
will come from?
Now it's not that I feel fly fishers should
have a register at the local fly shop (though
that's a pretty good idea); I'd just prefer
that those purchasing gifts for me not waste
their money on junk. But no matter how I try,
I just can't seem to get the point across to
gift givers that I pretty much have everything
I need, fly fishing wise. Saying so only makes
them more "creative" in their fly-fishing gift
hunt.
Clothing with ridiculous mottos (Women want me,
Fish Fear Me; The Way to a Man's Heart is Through
His Fly; and on and on ad nauseum) seems to be
a popular gift idea for the non-fishing shopper.
Last year I received a t-shirt with "here fishy
fishy fishy" emblazoned across the front, not
exactly the Gift of the Magi. As if that wasn't
enough (more than enough), I also was given a
matching cup and hat. Not only would I never
use these things, I had to question what
impression I give to make someone think that
I even might. Needless to say all three items
are buried in the back of the closet until they
can be recycled.
Then there are those who put a little more
thought into their gifts, but the results
are equally dismal. I have a fly tying kit,
purchased by a well-wisher with the assurance
from the K-mart associate that "it's a real
good one." Needless to say, the vice is junk,
the materials worse, and it was a waste of the
$25 it cost. The thought was kind, the
intention good, and I wouldn't expect a non-fly
fisher to realize that a grade 3 chicken neck
cost more than $25, but the fact remains the
present is useless. The kit joined the here
fishy fishy fishy ensemble in the back of the
closet.
The worse, though, are those kitschy novelty
items that, in some inexplicable bout of
collective hysteria, take America by storm.
If you don't know what I mean, just think
"dancing Santa." Anglers are cursed with
our own version of the dancing Santa:
Big Mouth Billy Bass. For those of you
just out of a prolonged coma, Big Mouth
Billy Bass is a rubber fish mounted on a
plastic plaque that wags its tail and moves
its lips to such classic tunes as "Don't
worry, be happy." Big Mouth Billy Bass
spawned a whole school of singing fish-trout,
muskee, pike. And, yes, I got one for
Christmas.
Thankfully there are no new Billy Bass
clones on the market this year, but I am
resigned to receiving at least one goofy
shirt, and I'll do my best to laugh and
act pleased before burying it in the back
of the closet. But before I sound too
bitter, let me stress that some good has
come on this exercise of reflecting on past
gifts, as it has caused me to begin composing
my Christmas list for my fly fishing friends:
Dave Rosset: Here fishey fishey fishey hat (never worn)
Mike Flanagan: Here fishey fishey fishey mug (never used)
Gary Henderson: Here fishey fishey fishey t-shirt (dyed watermelon)
Jed Proujansky: Big Mouth Billy Bass (hardly played)...
After all, it's the thought that counts. ~ Dave
About Dave:
Dave Micus lives in Ipswich, Massachusetts. He is an
avid striped bass fly fisherman, writer and instructor.
He writes a fly fishing column for the Port City Planet
newspaper of Newburyport, MA (home of Plum Island and Joppa Flats)
and teaches a fly fishing course at Boston University.
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