Agent Smith was right...

...though not the first...to compare us to (label us as?) a virus. Though malice may not be man's motivation for destruction, nature and consequence are equally ambivilent to intent.


Every decision you make matters. This weekend I am flying west to check in with my waders model. Perhaps if I cared a little more about life, I'd just send a letter.


Read Olivia Judson's piece on extinction from this week. Makes me wish I had a better way with words. Loosely pertaining to fishing;


"Certainly, we’re having an impact. For example, fishing in the northwestern Atlantic has caused population collapses in several species of great sharks — including bull sharks, blacktips, dusky sharks, hammerheads. Since 1972, scalloped hammerhead shark populations off the coast of North Carolina have fallen by 98 percent; dusky sharks, bull sharks and smooth hammerhead populations have fallen by 99 percent. By comparison, blacktips are doing well: their population fell by only 93 percent.
The population crashes have had a big knock-on effect. The vanished sharks fed on skates and rays, which have seen their populations grow by a factor of ten. Cownose rays now number 40 million, up from 4 million in 1972. These animals feed on scallops and clams; the increase in their numbers recently caused the collapse of North Carolina’s bay scallop fishery. And this isn’t even a problem we can blame on climate change."


Also related to fishing, hit Default Pool for the first time in a week last night. Brian nabbed one stockie, and I came away with a 3" chub (no jokes, please). Had a bruiser nose up to (litterally, nouch his nose to) my soft-hackle hare's ear, brown ehc, gray ehc, yellow sallie, several mayfly imitations, and even a cricket. All were refused. I'll admit, the first few times, it was pure exhiliration...but after 90 minutes of trying to change his mind, I was just frustrated. Especially when he completely left the water to chase something within 2' of my fly...for the third time.


Missed a couple smaller fish. By the time I couldn't see my parachute iso (biggest, ugliest mayfly in my box), Brian had stopped fishing already and my wrists were covered in mosquito bites. Sadly, the trout streak had ended.

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