My catch-and-release habit has been so reflexive for so many decades that it is difficult for me to accurately remember the battle of emotions I underwent to reach this point. But as near as I can recall, just prior to my C&R conversion the devil on my left shoulder was arguing strenuously against the
Haunted By Brook Trout
I have sometimes heard the subconscious mind described as a well. If that is true, then I've got brook trout swimming at the bottom of mine. Consider, for instance, the extremely weird dream I had a few days after my father died. In this dream, I caught a nice pair of brookies in a place no fish would
Exactly four years ago I made a mistake-one of thousands certainly, but still the only decision I have truly regretted since becoming FR&R's editor in 2001. I am here now to eat some crow, and make amends. What I did was to tinker with something much larger than myself. If you were reading us back then,
The Eyes of Experience
The first sign appeared over 10 years ago, when I was still-though just barely-in my thirties. I was fishing a twilight caddis hatch and was hooking brown trout of up to 18 inches. Wading nearby, though as yet without a trout to his credit, was a young fisherman of 17 or 18 whom I knew only as "the kid."
When I first moved to Maine in the 1980's, I was working as a full-time freelance writer. That is to say, I had no money, but lots of free time, and I regularly fielded a host of offbeat propositions. One of my most interesting freelance gigs was as a contributing writer for a travel magazine whose editor