Thursday, February 17, 2011
A New Net - Revisited
Dear Mr. Bigasstrout,
Where were you?
Last week you ravaged my fly, gave me the fin, and broke me off. The very least you could have done is allowed me a rematch today. I got up early. I made the long drive once again. I was ready. Same hole, same streamer, fresh tippet. 3X.
But no. You had to send your little stocker friends to fight your battles. You coward.
When I got back into civilization – civilization defined as placement within some semblance of cell phone coverage - I called Mary to tell her that I had survived yet another day on the stream and that I was on my way home.
“Did you catch any fish?” she asked.
“Of course” I replied, with an almost straight face.
“But not the big one" she said.
It was a statement, not a question. She'd have heard it in my voice if I had.
Dear Mr. Mike,
You had your chance. Don’t bring those feeble fishing skills into my house and expect to land me. But feel free to keep trying. Maybe someday I will give you a rematch. Maybe. Just not today.
Besides, you didn’t get that new net yet.
Another day, Mr. Trout. Another day.