..... Today I decided to supplement my diet with a little fresh caught trout.
. I do that once every spring pretty much just because.
. so I go to this nice section of the wild trout stream I had mentioned, which is a river by name, and start tossing the in-line spinners that had seemed so delicious to them Brownies earlier in the year. Nada, ugatz, zilch.
. So I'm not one to give up so easy. I tie on a lure I had been meaning to try for them trouts. Great action, size #7 which should be about right - Rapala in Rainbow Trout color. Whenever I start feeling guilty about mistreating fish I remind myself that they are nothing but vicious murdering cannibals - Which they are.
...and in a few casts I got a nice one on in a life and death struggle, which I eventually won in spite of my drag being set too low.
. It's my practice on these rare occasions that I mean to harvest a trout that I dispatch it forthwith with a sharp blow to the back of the head. So I'm looking around for a suitable basher and like
..this one, no, this one, no, how about this one..no, for like a minute which seems an eternity. I mean, I'm in a woods, you'd think that a serviceable stick would be in arms reach anywhere you are but no, I need a very specific stick of a special length girth and weight, ya know. It takes a minute, but I get my masher and deftly whack the fish on the back of the head. I've done this enough times that you'd think a single blow would take care of matters, but it never has, it always takes three before the fish goes limp, stops thrashing and quivering. I do not like the process - it makes me feel evil, or rather that I am being evil doing what I am at that moment, and maybe that's why once a year is enough.
....and because I know that quality content must include an occasional picture.
The Rapala minnow #7 in Rainbow Trout color: