The Fisherman
This is a tribute to all us fishing people who dream about fish and how to catch them.
Early June in Virginia and the bluegill and bass would be spawning. Dad invited a mess of people over and asked me to get some fish. I got 23 big sassy bluegill on fly rod and Arbogast surface poppers
and several bass on Mepps #2 buck tail spinners, greatest lure ever made. If a woman ever wore these as ear rings, I’d be hooked.
There are few things as delicious as fresh bluegill grilled over coals.
The Fisherman
The fisherman waits
for as long as it takes.
He waits for the dawn
and the warming light
to strike the water
and wake the fish.
He waits for the wind
to settle or to arrive,
according to his philosophy,
long held but secretive.
Perhaps the rain will come
or stop soon and then
they’ll begin to rise
and take a fly.
If this blasted sun
could be covered by a cloud
unless today is when
the dappling surface
will excite them
into a feeding frenzy.
What is that moon doing?
They will always take a fly
when it is either waxing
or on the wane.
Unless the water
is quite cold,
then everything changes.
No matter,
dusk is almost here
and soon I'll begin
hauling them in,
hand over fist until
my arms quiver and shake
and I have reached
my creel’s limit of joy!
Below is a great little poem I have always loved.
My grandfather had this on a little plaque
in his tackle room/closet.
Behold the fisherman.
He riseth up, early in the morning
and disturbeth the whole household.
Mighty are his preparations.
He goeth forth full of hope,
returning when the day is far spent;
smelling of strong drink
and the truth is not in him.
good lessons from patient fishermen. My oldest son is obsessed with fishing :)
Fish tales