has this ever happenend to you?

wrote ...
. Gone. In ten minutes they're
back again or others have moved in. Seen it on a couple of fish
watching (and rod waving) occasions.



I've always fished with a pooch by my side, or more likely, swiming through
the pool I was just about to cast through. My current pup is a French
Brittany and listens very well, and is learning to stay by my side just
fine. The fellow I met on the Lackawaxen Monday commented on what a swell
little fellow he was. Other fishing dogs have not always been such
gentlemen, though. And, I suppose, neither was the master.

One stream we used to like to fish was the Bushkill. A swell stream
well-stocked by the BSA, and a permit to fish could be had for a small
donation. The pool closest to the parking lot was always packed with
wall-to-wall sports, the next pool maybe two fishermen, and the rest of the
stream would be empty, despite miles of excellent water in beautiful
surroundings, and lots of trout.

On one visit, I decided to have a little fun with the first pool sports.
Half a dozen or so fellows were crowed into the pool, casting a little
frantically, trying to catch a fish in front of the other guys in some sort
of bizzare male dominance ritual. Somewhat type A myself, I decided to join
the fray. Dog and I stepped into the pool, and Rusty immediately went to
the center and shook himself with a great splash, which certainly got the
attention of the other fellows. I'm sure at this point they were admiring
such a handsome dog, and probably my vintage Wright & McGill Dandy rod and
Precisionbilt Mosquito reel as well, as these poor fellows had only new
shiney Orvis gear to play with.

I tied on a Spruce Creek and ripped it through the fast current at the tail
of the pool, and immediately had a nice rainbow on. After releasing the the
fish, I remarked, "C'mon Rusty, these fish are too easy to catch here.," and
we went upstream. I'm sure it made those fellows day to see such a pair of
fine fisherman as Rusty and me were. I don't believe anyone ever had a
finer fishing buddy than Rusty was.


One thing that does happen to me while fishing - them durn wimmins staring.
Let me point out that I'm not an attractive fellow. My last date used the
phrase "freak of nature". Picture the unholy love child of Mr. Bean and
Lurch, hit in the face by a truck. Now ugly it up a little. I'm nobody's
%$#@ dream date.

And yet, when I'm in the stream looking like I'm swatting bees with an
oversized blade of grass, women sit and watch. They stare. Groups of young
girls sit watching. Women in long skirts come seemingly out of nowhere into
the middle of a gorge and photograph us. They turn their easels around and
start painting us. The stop and make small talk. WTFF. When I meet a
woman in a normal social situation and ask her for a date, she screams "What
ARE You?!!" and runs away screaming and flailing her arms over her head.
When I've clearly got something more interesting to do - fishing - they come
crawling out of the rocks like hellgramites. Go away, I'm married to the
sea, dammit.

Unless, of course, she has a 4WD with a beach permit.

Timothy Juvenal