LoraxEleven

Shit… you have terms the what I’m saying… owe ya s beer

Imitation is practice… I get ya… did that…

Bob kinda wanted the beginner to be proud of being able to relatively recreate what he was doing with a severely truncated set of tools… good critique. Pretty fuckin close, for a painter, eh,

I didn’t know it was the off-season! Didn’t have a secret… Fuck, still don’t. I Didn’t fuckin know!

Maybe I’d have a better story if I had. Not that I don’t have some trespassing, poaching, shitty-fisher stories…

Because, I do.

When young; only the art of the catch mattered… Later in life, the quality creeps in… and it fucks shit up… And it seems that the investment should represent the yield… (it doesn’t) So much fuckin bullshit… It really doesn’t in fishing.

…

That trout…

She’d already hit me, earlier that day…

Even before I’d caught that fish that day… She had hit a different lure… I threw at her, she took that fucking little bait… She bowed me over, breached, and threw that lure a long ways away from her…

But… She HIT!

She was hungry!

Fuckin Knew I had her ass, then!!

And I had the worst case of The Fever I’ve ever had! Fucking shaking with anticipation! Having been soo fucking close and then she threw my bait…

Getting crushed and sticking with it means something in fishing…

I knew I had something aggressive in my pocket, though… Excessive vibration… Excessive movement… Plenty of fucking hooks… So I strapped that shit on and threw it just out of her reach… Reeling it in before she could get to it…

And then did that again… but just a fucking tad closer…

And again…

And again.

And again

But, finally, just close enough.

…

She attacked…

Her…, nor I, let up…

That fight was ON!

Wish that day in my life was every single fuckin day of my life.

…

But, the secret of an illegal fish on an illegal day? That has never crossed my mind, until you just mentioned it…

But, there’s somethin in it, maybe…

I was just fishing. Fuck, I still am.

When that Fever hits you. You’ll do shit you wouldn’t normally do.

I understand that.

She was a beautiful 7-plus pound rainbow trout that I caught from a fairly small creek beside my house, on a little ultralight setup I had as a teenager. (Very light line, very small baits. Very under-strength for a fish that size. ) Hands down the best fight I’ve ever had with a fish my whole damn life. Unbeknownst to me it was during the off-season… (A two-week span at the end of winter when trout were off limits at the time.) My Dad flipped out when I came home carrying that monster! Being off-season, I couldn’t get her certified of course. But I’ll never forget the long, delicate struggle with getting that fish landed! It was fucking thrilling! Most active, acrobatic fish I’ve ever tangled with. Guess I’ve been chasing that battle ever since. I’ve caught bigger and many many more, since then, but nothing compares to the fight she gave me that cold winter day on that little rig.

Bob Ross was a bad-assed motherfucker.

I fish.