It can be snowing and there can be a wind from the North screaming in our face.
But we endure. We chase a quarry that has a brain the size of a pea. Most time we don’t even keep them.
Odd is a mild description of we the trout anglers.
We wear our mantle with pride and conviction.
We are a driven bunch.
The thrill of what could be on the next cast is our affliction.
Quack…Quack