Irony

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Fishy Trout?

It boggles my mind. People describe things in different ways. I understand that. We pull from different experiences, see our own versions of things. We prefer different foods for different reasons. But when someone says their piscine meal tastes "fishy," I tend to think pretty much everyone is on the same page as to what that means. Anyone who has eaten a decent amount of fish likely understands how distinct that "fishy" taste is (anyone who has only ever eaten fish once probably does as well...though they may have incorrectly attributed it to all fish). That's why I don't understand how my experiences and description of what tastes "fishy" can differ so significantly and basically from what I hear and read from others. This certainly is not the first time I've noticed someone mention the "fishy" taste associated with trout and salmon, and (not to pick on Mr. Streeter , but) I just don't get it. Don't get me wrong, I do think...
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Drums Along the Mohawk: Redux

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Still haven't seen the movie . When the water is down, there's a lot of territory to explore on the delta. Not enough to truly get lost, being situated at the nexus of 3 cities, 2 major river systems, a state park, railroad, multiple automobile bridges and a DPW center, but impressively, more than enough to lose yourself and experience what nature has been able to seek the delta's refuge. This year every visit to the islands (but 1) has resulted in at least hearing a deer. Yesterday I saw the same doe twice on opposite sides of a side channel within an hour. I've jumped rabbits, been rushed by geese, stepped on catfish, and been a homing beacon for caddis. There are secluded places, believe it or not, where you almost feel in the wilderness. All you can hear is the rushing water and wind, and if you don't strain too hard, you can't even see the buildings in the distance. Surrounded by river, shale, forest...and these; Do you see? Do You See!? Oh, I'm sorry,...
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The Beast

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I called out for a killer I looked for a knife I drank from this river It ruined my life I saw him comin' at me Empty and so cold I never knew emotion Till he caught me in his fold Part III; Last Days It doesn't take much to change the entire mood, outlook, perception of a trip. We've all been on either side of the tracks at one time or another, the beneficiary or victim to a minor shift in events that starts gaining momentum, for better or worse. Averaging less than one fish per four angler-days, our once bright armor was starting to show the wear and tear of frustration. Sure, we were having fun. To this point, it was a very successful vacation. It's hard to complain whenever you can do what you love for an extended period. In terms of an overall angling experience however, we were rapidly approaching failure mode. Hitting morning thruway-rush-hour at Rochester, approaching Syracuse, and then turning north, I wondered how much gas I had left. By the time the first Exi...
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