Word: fishly
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...uninitiated, the sport may seem ridiculously simple: take a long pole ; with a line, attach a fake bug and toss it at some unsuspecting fish. But the disciplines involved in this seemingly simple act take years to master. Novices often quit in disgust or spend hours on the river, pleading to heaven for the strike of just one trout. Eventually, with practice, the casts begin to land right, without a splash, and then one day a trout rises to examine the offering -- and strikes...
...attached to the line with a gossamer-thin tippet, a fisherman must use the long, sensitive rod to tire the trout as it surges and runs, leaps and sometimes literally walks across the water's surface on its tail. There is no mistaking this magic. The fish explodes again, up through a silver shower of water, shaking its head in an effort to throw the hook. You notice the color. It is gorgeous, almost surreal. The trout's meaty flanks sport outrageous spots of black and orange, horizontal streaks of silver and red. The line rips through the water, sending...
...fish tires, you draw it close to your leg, remove the hook and hold the trout for a moment, gauging its length before giving it back to the stream. That too is part of the sport. When waters were cleaner and trout spawned nearly everywhere, killing and eating the fish were a more common reward for the catch. But a generation raised on conservation ethics is releasing fish to reproduce and perhaps be caught again. Our atavistic selves relish the hunt, but our better natures understand the need to protect what we cherish. Fly-fishing lets us do both...
...apprenticeship is not over, not yet. One day some fisherman with a pipe stands in the stream nearby releasing fish and announces that the trout are hitting bugs with an unpronounceable Latin name. You nod but don't know what he's talking about. Then back to the books for a quick course on streamside biology, matching the hatch, figuring out what the trout is eating and which artificial flies imitate those insects. Armed with a little entomology and inflamed with trout psychosis, you start buying everything that countless catalogs offer: stream thermometers, a flashlight for nighttime fishing, hook- sharpening...
Catching trout comes quicker now; on a good day perhaps six, even ten, get landed. You adopt rituals, preferring certain flies that bring you luck and that your friends use successfully. Gear gets stowed in familiar pockets as your fishing vest softens and fades with age. It is a delicate time, for as the addiction grows, the fish begin to invade your thoughts and dreams. At unpredictable moments the fisherman's mind fills with images of wide water, where brown trout hit large dry flies and pull long and hard...