Do Fish Have Memories?

If they do, just how good are they?

According to some scientists, memories in fish are better than we may have believed. Forget what you know or have heard, Fish have a memory that lasts much more than three seconds and are capable of deception and learning, say’s Dr Kevin Warbuton from New South Wales. He has been studying fish for more than three decades and says they’re much better at memory than we give them credit for. He states the idea that fish have a short memory is wrong. “It’s absolute rubbish”. “There’s been a lot of work done over the last 15 years on learning and memory in fish, and it has been found that fish are quite sophisticated. Fish can remember prey types for months; they can learn to avoid predators after being attacked once and they retain this memory for several months.”

Warbuton believes fish are capable of learning, albeit at a cost. For example, his research on the silver perch revealed something unexpected. “With one type of prey, the fish got more and more efficient at catching their food,” he says. “But when we put two different types of prey in together, their overall efficiency dropped. We think it was because they suffered from divided attention. It’s a cost of learning.”

Dr Ashley Ward, a fish biologist at the University of Sydney says where the three-second memory urban myth came from is hard to find. “It seems to come from an advert many years ago, but nobody is sure what it was for,” he says.
Ward believes the misconceptions surrounding the intelligence of fish may stem from the early days of zoology. “Back then [zoologists] tested their abilities based on what a human could do … so obviously the fish would fail.” Ward says we now know of numerous of examples of fish displaying amazing memory skills.

He refers to one anecdote from the United States, where a Professor Charles Eriksen spent several months feeding a pond of fish while calling out “fish-fish”. After a break of five years, Eriksen returned to the pond and called out “fish-fish”. Immediately a number of the surviving fish swam to the surface waiting to be fed.

I wish I could call out fish-fish and the trout would end up on the end of my line. Nahhh, that would take the fun out of it for us. In all seriousness though what does this information mean to me. Well first off if a fish has that good of memory, then how often I change lures needs to be reconsidered. The colours I use most often needs to thought about. Perhaps I need to paint my lures customs colours, that way the fish will not remember me when I cast my lures to them. I know some of them laugh at me when I use the same thing over and over again. Now that I know a little more my decision making will change. Hopefully these facts will help you make better decisions while out on the water casting to your favourite species of fish.

   It started off like any other day fishing for ­­smallmouth bass. The sun was just beginning to rise above the majestic stands of oak  and jack pine on the mountain and the morning fog was lifting a few feet above the lakes calm mirrored surface. The only sound to be heard was that of the waves lapping against the bow of the boat and a solitary loon that noisily guarded the entrance of the bay. We were drifting slowly with the wind, casting our poppers against the shoreline, and taking in the beauty of our pristine surroundings when it happened. Ploop, Ploop, Ploop, Kershplooosh!!!!  In one brief and violent instant, the water under my partners lure erupted, leaving a bathtub-sized depression where his lure had once been.  He reared back on his rod, which was arched down to the corks under the weight of a good fish. The fish rose to the surface once, in a perfunctory attempt to break gravity and heave it’s massive body out of the water to shake the hook, and then fought a deep tug-of-war until brought to the boat. When it was finally landed and we took a good look at it we were both stunned for a few moments. It was a huge smallmouth bass.  Twenty-four inches according to the tape measure, two feet long and as fat and round as a rugby ball. By far the biggest smallmouth we had ever seen.

Just What The Doctor Prescribed

After working diligently to get all my work done this week, I packed my fishing tackle and my rod into the back of my car and headed off to finish the work week. Friday morning was looking really great to leave work early and sneak away to fish the Bow River. Just as a doctor would prescribe ointment for a rash, fishing scratches and heals all my itches. I left work early at ten thirty and drove thirty minutes to meet up with some trout.

I parked the car and got out. Burr, it was a little chilly so I got on my snow pants. I added an extra sweater for good measure as well, after all I am not leaving the river until I catch at least one fish. I tied up a Rapala Countdown and made sure the knot was going to hold if I caught a monster Trout. The knot broke the first time I tied it up, so I made extra sure the knot was solid the second time I tied it up. I am a little rusty but the clinch knot was perfect this time. I then put my back pack over my shoulders and make the short walk to the river bank. I fished my way upriver with no bites for the first five or ten minutes. I was looking for a deeper section of river as the countdown can run fairly deep. If you use a lure that runs deeper than the river, all you will catch is rocks, branches, and weeds.

I gingerly walked out onto the ice that has gathered on the bank and made my cast. I was able to almost cast all the way across the river, the ice was quite far out into the river in some spots. The lure was running true and clean when, tap, tap I feel the bite of a trout. I seen the fish swim back into the rock he was hiding behind. Even though I thought there were fish stacked in this area, I kept moving upriver to see what else was alive down there. Just a short distance upriver I finally hooked into a twenty inch Brown Trouton a Brown Trout Rapala. This guy was hungry and engulfed my offering. Then there came another slow period. I decided that instead of leaving the original hook on, I would change it to another Rapala of a different color. I feel some fishermen make the mistake of leaving their hook on too long when they are not catching fish. Today all it took was to change the color pattern and then I started slamming trout. I was using the same hook, it was the same size but I just changed the color.

After I switched hooks I made a long cast into a seam in the middle of the river. I could see there were some large rocks and I wanted to see what was hiding behind them. My cast was made just a metre in front of the spot I wanted to work my lure through. I was careful not to spook the fish from the splash of my lure. I clicked the bail over and reeled the lure making it swim erratically and fast, then BOOM a trout was hooked on and fighting hard. I reeled him in and to my surprise it was a chunky rainbow. I love rainbows! The very next cast was put almost to the exact same place the first cast went into, this time the lure dove down and I let it sit still, BANG another trout was hooked up. Back to back trout’s. This time it was a big brown that was rolling to get the hook out of his mouth. I managed to slowly reel him in to land him and what a beautiful looking fish. I released him back into the frigid water and wiped my hands off. It was getting windy by now and it was time to walk back downriver towards my vehicle. I was fishing all the way back downstream as the wind was howling behind my back.

As the wind was blowing strong my lure was going even farther out into the River than when I first started my day. I hooked the bottom; probably a tree or a large rock in the river and my hook broke off. “Oh well” I said and reached into the back pack for another. A different colour Rapala was selected. It’s a new color out this year. As I came to a deep small pocket of water, I flicked the lure into the drop point of the hole and slowly reeled the Rapala towards the deepest part of the hole. After the third try, what I left early from work for was pulling my lure hard. A twenty five inch Brown trout was getting the best of me. I loosened the drag on my reel as I could see this was no small fry. He then peeled out several yards of line before coming to a stop; quickly I picked up the lost line and brought him close to shore where I tailed him out and removed the Rapala from his tooth jaws. “Now that’s what I’m talking about” I said out loud. I saved the best for last today that’s for sure. Hopefully next week the weather is nice and I can get away again. What are you doing this week? Perhaps some trout fishing!

It’s that time of year again! The weather starts to cool, the sweaters come out, the leaves change colours, and the water temperature drops.  But don’t get upset because the salmon run is here!  The salmon have started making their ways up the rivers to spawn in Ontario.  The past few rain falls have really helped with raising the water levels.  The salmon are able to get up the rivers a lot easier.  There are many reports and pictures of anglers landing monster salmon! 

If you have never experienced a salmon run I suggest you get out and see what you’re missing. Even if you’re not into catching fish (which I can’t believe your not), go down to a river like the Credit and the Humber and witness nature at its best.  See how powerful and determined these beasts of nature are, as they make their way up to where they were born and lay their eggs for future generations.  It is really something to see, especially if you can see them jump over obstacles like dams. 

This fall don’t just sit home trying to stay warm and complain that summer has ended. Get out and see what all the fuss is about.  The salmon run is here, don’t wait too long as it only lasts for so long!  By mid to end of November the major run will be over. Don’t wait, get some bait and go fishing!

‘Till next time: May your hook sets be Massive and your fish be Monsters!

-Peter Natev

  Crank Bait’s Are King

We all have seen those big fat juicy looking lures dangling from the tackle store shelves just begging us to buy them. Heck they look so life like these days I even think about eating one or two of them so why not a fish. I turn on the fishing channel on Saturday mornings and see these same lures being used time and time again, “today we will be using crank baits to catch our fish” says the host of the TV show. So why choose the crank bait to catch your prey. Well its simple really, these lures like the Rapala are tank tested to achieve the perfect wiggle, wobble, pitch and roll which makes the lure look like a reel bait fish.

The color schemes on the Rapala are matched to duplicate whatever baitfish is in your local area. I fish my local river for rainbows and brown trout so I choose the corresponding colors to catch my quarry, rainbow trout colors and the brown trout color. I see the pro’s using them while they fish and have great success with them; some even sign their name on the favourite lure like the Berkley Frenzy Jay Yelas hard baits. Relying on  Berkley Frenzy crank baits, professional bass angler Jay Yelas led wire to wire at the 2002 CITGO Bass masters Classic to capture his first world championship.

Yelas, who finished with 45 pounds and 13 ounces, entered the final day of the three-day competition with a comfortable lead of over nine pounds, out fishing the field that included fifty-two of the world’s best bass anglers. It was only the third time in the 32-year history of the Classic that the winner led from start to finish. So this is why I choose to fish the crank bait often, they are proven to work for the pro’s and for me also.

Crank baits can be used in all depths of water as they make them to dive from two feet all the way down to thirty or more feet deep. Depth is important in choosing the right crank bait for your fishing situation. When exposed to different food sources, trout spend more of their time at different depths, making the most of the variety of food that is available to them. When fishing at depth, use large crank baits for better visibility, and when fishing shallow where light penetrates easily, go smaller. Fish tend to find their food on the surface, on the lake or river bed or in the margins. The middle depths tend to be an unproductive “dead zone” as there is little food and no cover there. It is wise to begin fishing deep, on or near the bottom or on the surface when fishing open water. If you don’t find quick success, work your way up or down with your crank bait until you find success and hook up.

Crank baits can be used from a boat or while standing on a shoreline. They can be used in rivers and lakes alike, so they are very versatile and work well in most all fishing situations. My favourite crank baits include the Rapala, Berkley Frenzy, Storm, and many more. Crank baits deserve a place in your tackle box and on the end of your line.

Ask just about any fisherman and they will tell you that the most exciting type of fishing is top water fishing.  It is a thrill to see a big ol’ fish just bust through the waters surface. What is even more exhilarating is seeing a hawg of a bass explode through a matt of vegetation. What’s the best type of lure to use in this type of situation? Yup, you guessed it, FROGS!  Plastic frogs can be thrown into the thickest of vegetation.  Frogs are best thrown using a 7-7’9 foot heavy bait caster with 40-65lbs. of braided line. The weedless nature of the frog makes it a hassle free lure for any skill level.

The two most popular types of frogs are floating frogs and soft plastic frogs.  Floating frogs are plastic frogs that do not sink.  The Spro Bronzeye frog is an example of a floating frog.  Their unsinkable nature makes them ideal for thick vegetation.  They are easy to cast and simple to use.  They can be retrieved in a number of ways, such as: stop and go, walk the dog, steady retrieve, or popping.

Soft plastic frogs are different then floating frogs because they sink.  The Zoom Horney Toad for example has a kinking motion that when retrieved is activated causes commotion in the water and sinks when it is not reeled in. The best ways to retrieve a soft plastic frog is to: burn it, steady retrieve on the surface, steady retrieves on the surface and occasionally pausing (this pause will allow the bait to sink and fall right in front of the fish under the cover).  Soft plastic frogs are best used in open water, lily pads, and sparse vegetation.

There are many different colours of frogs on the market. To simplify color selection, use natural colours like green, brown, white, or black.  These four colours can be used in any water clarity and anywhere in the country. When the bite gets tough don’t be afraid to change things up! Try a colour you had no intention of ever using.  Sometimes its decisions like this that can turn your day around and get you a limit.

If you have never used a frog lure in your life, then you are definitely missing out.  The next time your at your local tackle store don’t shy away from the frog isle and pick yourself up some frogs. I promise that you will not be disappointed when that monster fish crashes the surface and inhales your lure.

‘Till next time: May your hook sets be Massive and your fish be Monsters!

-Peter Natev

Memories of Days Gone ByI was in the south end of the city today for a visit to my parent’s house, turkey dinner and all the fixings always entices me. I returned to one of my favourite spots on the Bow River to try my luck and work up an appetite. This particular hole has rewarded me with many monster trout in the past. I remember walking in and tying up a Buzz Bomb or a Panther Martin and hammering trout after trout after trout. It was that good! If the lures were not working I would grab the flies from the tackle box and tie them to a six inch piece of fishing line. I would tie up two flies, usually a bow river bugger and a royal coachman onto my spinning gear. I would use a bell weigh attached to the bottom of the set up and fire that out into the river, bouncing the rig along the bottom and picking it off carefully as to not snag up. That would catch me fish for sure, sometimes very big fish.

I returned today with high hopes and a back pack full of gear. I sat on the bank and watched the water flow by as I tied a hook onto the end of my dull green fishing line. The river had me thinking of all the fish I hooked and landed from that hole. Big browns, fat rainbows, and even some huge rocky mountain whitefish were landed with ease and grace at this location. The area was perfect for trout, a nice gravely bottom with good cover and deep to boot. You knew fish were there and I knew how to catch them. I finally tied up and cast far outwards where the hole began to sink, should be fish in there I thought. Many casts’ later and no fish. Time to switch hooks to spinner bait. The rooster tail went on and outward but still nothing. I sat back and watched the river wondering where the fish were. I never even saw one trout’s snout, or even a dorsal fin for that matter.

I keep it going after the short break and still no luck. I was puzzled and a bit confused at the lack of action. After all this was my hole, I knew it like the back of my hand. After walking up and down the river several times I decided it was time to go get that turkey dinner in me. Back in “the good ol’ days” I would have walked out of my hole with at least four or five fish hooked and landed but not today. The river has changed in this hole, the once prime spawning grounds of the brown trout has vanished into thin air. Actually it was blown out by the nasty flood of 2005. Gone are those days of massive browns from this hole. It’s sad really but that is how nature works. There is little cover left and quite shallow.

The memories will still be with me as long as I live. I will move on and find another fishing hole to call my own. I know other fishermen and women can relate to this article. If you have a favourite fishing hole you would like to share with us than feel free to write a comment and share your story here. I know I would personally like to hear it! Until we meet again on the river, may all your fish be LARGE.

Homing In On March Trout

Today was a day a trout fisherman could not pass up the opportunity to get the hooks out and the line wet. Soon the weather will turn cold again and we will be watching fishing shows on television. So off to the Bow River we go and catch some of our own trout. There was three days of warm weather here in Calgary so there was a copious amount of water draining off the streets and into the Bow River system. This made the water dirty, and yesterday it was too dirty to fish. But I remained positive and returned to the river today for some trout fishing action. Dean played hooky from work and Tom was on his way as he had the day off. Tom said “I have that fishing itch I just have to scratch”. You know the itch he means, the one where you are cooped up for weeks and no fishing has been done for months.

Spirits were high and the hooks were sharp. Up the icy bank and into the deep hole I walked gingerly, ice cracking half way up the river. I was the first to arrive, and therefore I was able to latch into four nice rainbows before Dean and Tom arrived to meet me. As they say “the early bird gets the worm”, well actually he gets the trout. Dean was walking up the bank and I could see him in the distance as I battled my fifth rainbow within an hour. It looked like it was going to be a day for many rainbows. Then Tom showed up and then the river became quiet, like Mother Nature turned off the switch. A brief period passed with no trout hooked but then as the day started, the river came alive once again.

Tom was into a respectable brown trout that measured out at twenty three inches. The camera shutter snapped a few pictures and then Tom released the fish back into the chilly stained water. As tom released the fish into the Bow River, I held onto his coat just to make sure he did not slip and enter the river. Ice hanging over the rivers edge can be dangerous so when you are walking on it you must check it first for stability, getting wet when the water is this cold will end your day immediately. No one got their boots wet only their hands from releasing the fish we caught back into the river. Catch and release is a great idea to preserve the fishing resource we have here in Alberta.

Today we were predominantly using crank baits such as the Rapala Countdown, the Rapala Husky Jerk and the spinners were working also. I was using the Bang Tail made by Lure Jensen and hooked into two rainbows with it. Dean approached me and asked me what color he should switch his lure to. I suggested he try the green Rapala as I have seen many big fish caught with it. It was approaching three o’clock and this has always been a great time here on the Bow River to catch fish.  As the clock struck three, a huge Brown struck dean’s Rapala, the same green hook he just finished tying up. I could see the splashes from just down river where I was casting. I just knew this fish was extra ordinary so I clumsily trotted up the river to capture some video of his monster. This male brute was battling dean to the bitter end with many head shakes and rolls to try and shake his lure free. No way was Dean about to loose this fish. He reeled him slowly into the bank and chose a spot where he could get close enough to grip him. All twenty seven inches came out of the water; this is what we were looking for all day!

As dean’s eyes opened with amazement, I popped the hook from his tooth jaws careful not to harm this beautiful wonder. There was no problems unhooking him and we were able to capture the moment on film for you to see. When landing a fish this big, we are careful not to let the fish lay on the ice at all. It is better to keep the fish off the ice and get it back into the water as soon as possible. This reduces stress on the fish and improves the chances of fish survival. High fives were in order for this trout. I applauded dean for his skills and his presentation of the Rapala as it was necessary to do so. I hope you enjoy the picture of this Bow River fat boy. I know I enjoyed watching dean hook and land this exceptional trout.

www.bowriverblog.com

It has been a while since I have last written.  Even longer has been the last time I went out fishing or what it at least feels like. However, yesterday I got a chance to go out for the first time this year to do some ice fishing. We drilled holes at about the 100 foot depth range. Although the weather was good with no wind and a bright sun, the bite was slow.  I caught a few herring which were quickly released since they were not in season. I also raised a giant whitefish to the hole.  However, the whitefish straightened my hook and shook off.  A couple of my buddies landed lake trout that were good eater size.  A few of my other buddies also got some herring and a whitefish.  We were all pretty much fishing the same way that has worked in previous outings. Basically, two techniques were used:  the first was drop shotting live minnows and the second was ripping spoons. Drop shotting worked much better then the spoons did.  Although we did not catch as many fish as we all would have liked, I know for sure we can’t wait to get back out there for some redemption.

 ‘Till next time: May your hook sets be Massive and your fish be Monsters!-Peter Natev

The man largely responsible for my introduction to the world of fly-fishing was none other than Paul Bean, an Atlantic salmon fly tier of great renown and whose exquisite patterns, veritable works of a lost piscatorial art, grace the walls of such dignitaries and sportsmen as Prince Philip, Robert Redford, and ex-president George Bush. 

These are not your normal, everyday, store bought flies.

What makes both Paul and his flies unique and sought after, is that they are painstaking artistic recreations of old British Atlantic Salmon patterns from centuries ago, and that he is probably one of the few human beings alive that possesses this self-taught knowledge, based on years of archival research.  The flies are fully functional, of course, and you can fish with them, but most of them cost a small fortune and lie protected behind glass in ornate frames on a wall,  perhaps accompagnied with one of his wife Maureen`s beautiful watercolors of a Matapedia fishing scene.  The tying of these patterns is an all-consuming task, a labor of love that can sometimes take hundred of hours before Paul is satisfied with the end result. Needless to say, he only cranks out a few of these every year and these are quickly scooped up by collectors across the globe.

I was doubly fortunate through geography that Paul lived near us in the bucolic Eastern Townships in southern Quebec and that he had also been a good friend of my father since the post-war days, when they had some business together. It was Paul who made my first fly rod, a fast action eight weight hexagonal split bamboo, a dark burnished magohany that was gloriously varnished, with a half wells cork grip and a cherry wood reel seat with garnished german silver fittings.  It was his first attempt at making a bamboo rod and it was presented to me by my father as a gift to me for my thirteenth birthday, probably in the hope that I would stay out of trouble and learn something about the life lessons of nature in the process. These were the best times of my life and with that rod were laid out my first flies on the waters closest to my home.

With the rod came a few courses of instruction and Paul proved to be a patient teacher despite the inadequacies of his new pupil. The gospel according to Paul, at least in regards to basic casting mechanics, involved locking the elbow to the side of the body and moving the rod from a ten to one position on a imaginary clock, counting down the cast - one, two, three, one. It was the classic metronome method, old school, austere, and Presbyterian  in its approach; yet, in retrospect, it was a lesson in basic fundamentals  that worked well enough and was not to rigid as to preclude incorporating one’s own personal physical style to the formula. 

There were three types of casts we practiced - single and double hauls, as well as the roll cast, useful in tight quarters where a backcast is out of the question or when fishing a short or sinking line. Distance was less important than accuracy and stealth. Twenty-feet was all you needed was a mainstay of Paul’s casting catechism.  A drag free drift when fishing dry flies was paramount to success and the drift on a shorter cast line was much easier to mend and control than a long one.  Cast three or four times over the the same water and shuffle two steps downstream without kicking up too much of the riverbed! Repeat the process. It was all pretty traditional stuff.

 But when it came to fishing his approach was anything but conventional, at least in those days when nobody admitted to fishing for anything other than trout or salmon with a fly - such an endeavor would be heresy to the purists at a time when the sport was still highly elitist and limited in its scope of vision as to the possibilities of fishing with flies. Paul, on the other hand, a forward thinker, was an advocate of fishing for other species as well, such as bass, pike, and musky on the fly. He ultimately believed that all fish could be caught on a fly and backed it up by doing it, from flyfishing for Shad on the St-John’s to catching giant largemouth bass on Memphremagog.

Interspersed with the casting lessons, were discourses on fish conservation, habitat, old fishing trips, stories of great fish and salmon camps, life lessons of the Great Depression and War, anectotes about his great friend and legendary salmon guide Richard Adams, reel maker Stan Bogden, and almost anything else regarding the fishing life and the human condition. Paul could talk about anything. On these hot summer afternoons, as he told me all these things, mostly in dribs and drabs, imperfect thoughts that wafted uncertainly skyward like the flight of ephemera, time seemed to stand still and we were the at the epicenter of the Universe. He was a great mentor and shared his knowledge of the sport with selflessness, honesty, and passion, as it should.

One afternoon, as we were practicing on the lawn behind the library of the Bishop’s University in Lennoxville, Paul recounted something to me that was beyond my comprehension at the time and that I had always remembered, and had somewhat nagged at me ever since. It seemed that there was a period in his life where he had given up fishing for a few years, following some difficult yet unspoken tragedy in his life where either some great personal or financial loss had been incurred, or he had suffered some other existential crisis leading to a period of depression. He never told me straight up what it was and had muttered something about not being able to hook or land a fish, losing his patience and passion, no longer enjoying it and eventually walking away from the sport for a few years before finally getting back on the water. Up until that that time in his life, he had only fished for salmon and trout, but when he started fishing again he began experimenting with other species that were to be found in waters closer to home.

It was my uncle Mort that got him tying bass flies and then eventually, after much cajoling about the poor quality of Paul’s bass flies - which nevertheless got hammered on a daily basis - he succeeded in getting him to join him for some smallmouth bass fishing on Lake Massawippi.  Paul loved it. A solid friendship developed between them, at one point they even bought a property with a large lake and stocked it with bass and trout and fished almost every night after work. As best remembered, while most of my family thought that Mort was lazy and shiftless and would never amount to anything , the truth of the matter is that were it not for him, Paul may never have begun tying his amazing flies.

And as he shared his thoughts about the times and events and ups and downs of his life with me,  the small bits and pieces of the jugsaw puzzle that is everyman’s existence began to take shape, amidst poorly cast lines that landed in spaghetti loops at my feet on hot and lazy summer afternoons where time stood still during our long walks along the river. Along the way he would identify insects using their latin names, but my thoughts kept returning to that period in his life when he no longer fished. It was something that my soft adolescent brain could not understand - why would anyone stop fishing if they didn’t have to or were required not to do so by law. There are so many reasons why people fish - the real question is why more or all people do not!

That summer seemed to last a lifetime and after that I saw Paul less frequently as I went away to school for a few years, although we had fished together twice since and had dinner and a few beers out on the porch of his house one summer evening in North Hatley after I had returned from my studies at McGill. Again, for a few years we lost touch and when I last heard, much to my sorrow, he had passed away after a lengthy illness.

It was a few years back, after a period of personal upheaval, trials, and loss, and where a sudden responsibility had fallen upon me, I experienced one of those weird seasons where nothing seemed to feel natural, my patience was lacking, and where a large proportion of the fish hooked were lost through either error or bad luck. My timing was off and couldn’t manage a decent cast, had no confidence in the flies tied at the end of my tippet, had a hard time spotting feeding fish and never managed to hook or fight them properly, or so it seemed.

Something essential was missing and I had great difficulties coming to grips with the situation. After a season of that nonsense, my patience at it’s limit, fishing trips became less frequent, and then one day just stopped altogether for about a year or so. After a twenty-five year quest for the Holy Grail of fishing, that wonderful bamboo rod was placed in it cylindrical aluminum tube and stored in a basement closet.

It was during this time that was slowly realized that which Paul had been unable to express to a child who was certainly too young to understand at the time; and that how most of a man’s life, like a fish in a stream, was such as slippery thing to come to grips with and give meaning to, even though it all boiled down to a few simple basics, like locking your elbow to the side and counting down the cast. One-Two-Three-One. Then shuffling forward a few feet without mucking things up too much. Repeat.

Last April, the old rod that Paul built for me was found in a closet and with it, on the rivers closest to my home, fishing became fun once again. ARI VINEBERG