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National News & Information >September 2007 Features

The idle thoughts of an idle editor by Jerry Flay

Most anglers are unaware that each year the trout select one human to be the season’s unluckiest fisherman. Had they known that, it would account for many strange experiences including this one......

***********

The meeting of the trout council had been called at short notice. As usual, some of the younger members were trying to dominate proceedings.

“Let’s not give him a single bite all weekend”, shouted a boisterous 4 pounder

“Why don’t we bite lots and then swim around submerged logs everyday”, yelled a fingerling who was the youth representative.

The chairman called for order. He was a gnarled old jack, fully 18 pounds in weight, lips tattered and torn as the veteran of many encounters with anglers over the years. Although still feared and respected by fish throughout the river, he sometimes felt out of touch and had recently started to experience a mild longing to ascend to the trout heaven, Taxidermia. Years of arbitrating between young and old, between migrants and residents had sapped his enthusiasm for the job, and more than once recently he had found himself casting the odd avaricious glance at something he knew full well was a Hare and Copper imitation.

He flicked his tail, sending up a cloud of gravel, and the other fish fell silent.
“we formed a plan for this occasion and we shall stick to it”, he said. “We know he obeys the laws, so we shall all be perfectly safe. Those chosen to be hooked will all be under size, except of course the last one, and that is that. Are we all agreed?”
This last question was a rhetorical one. In the 8 years since his election, no-one had ever disagreed with a firm pronouncement made by the Chairman.

**********

The angler stood on the ban of the Birches Pool. Some 10 metres out he could see a group of fish waiting in the current. He waded out to what he judged was the perfect spot and commenced fishing. It only took 2 casts for a bite to occur, and he commenced battle, shortly after landing a fat, silvery fish. Scrupulous as ever, he measured it.
“43cms. Damn”

He released the fish back into the river.

He fished through the remainder of the pool and, getting no more bites, decided to move on.

At the Red Hut Pool he caught and landed a nice fish on his second cast. Once again the fish was marginally under the legal size limit, and was duly released.

And so it continued. Wherever the angler went, on his second cast he caught and landed a fresh fat fish that was just below the size limit.

Normally he would have been content with such a great catch, but this time he had promised his wife and children a fresh trout for supper.

“Man is a hunter gatherer”, he had proclaimed over breakfast, “so why don’t you all go to the park while I hunt and gather supper”

Waiving away his wife’s protestations that his record as a hunter was poor and as a gatherer even worse, he had marched out to the car and driven to the river.
And now, as dusk was beginning to gather, he stood by the bank, empty handed and red faced.

There was time for one more go and, as the fish had known he would, he headed for the Admirals Pool, a favourite end-of-day spot of his. Tying on a fly which had worked miracles in this particular place in the past, although curiously not this year, he began to fish.

Beneath the water, and away from his sight, fish from all over the river began to congregate to witness the final act of the day.

The fish chosen for this task was a 7 year old. He weighed 16 pounds and had never before been hooked, let alone caught. But as the fly drifted past him, he turned and snapped. As per the plan, he immediately leaped out of the water twice, to give his would be captor a good look at his size. Truly he was a magnificent fish, and the angler’s heart almost stopped with excitement. But it was to be the last time he saw it.
The trout commenced a series of surging, powerful runs to the bottom of the pool. Each time he got there he allowed himself to be reeled in for about 10 metres before surging away again. And this is where the plan came into effect, for each time he ran, another fish would attached himself to the line, hanging on with the trout’s famous suction powers that anglers knew so little about, but which allowed them time and time again to appear to be hooked, then get away.

After a while the angler began to wonder if he would ever land this monster. It seemed to be getting heavier and stronger with each run. He knew it was a trophy – the glimpse when it had jumped had shown that, but his original estimate of 14 pounds had now been revised. Surely this must be a once in a lifetime fish, a 20 pounder?

The actual weight of the combined fish was 29 pounds by this stage, but the angler had no way of knowing that, just as he had no idea it was in fact 7 fish. Nevertheless, after the day he had had, he was determined not to lose it, so he carried on fighting.

The pool was now packed the seam with trout enjoying the show. At a prearranged signal, some 40 minutes after the first bite, and with 17 trout weighing a combined total of 42 pounds hanging on, the angler’s line finally gave up the ghost. He fell back to the bank, exhausted, frustrated, almost in tears that such a fight had ended in defeat, and that such a fish had got away.

In the pool the fish fell about with laughter. Two nursing hens helped the fish who had actually been hooked to spit the hook, and then they too joined in the general hilarity.
“I love it”, said the chairman, “when a plan comes together”

On the bank the fisherman was inconsolable. He had landed 17 undersized fish, but lost the big one, He would have to return home empty handed, and whilst the family might put on a superficial show of sympathy, he knew that secretly they would think he had caught nothing all day. Disconsolately he began to pack away his gear, wondering if he had time to visit the fish and chip shop and purchase a consolation meal.

He drove away in despair.

**********

Editors note: The cynical amongst you may also doubt the veracity of this tale but itseems to me the only logical and rational explanation.

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