Trout tails and tall tales

Trout are an elusive fish. The odds of going out and catching a stringer full of fat ones is about the same as winning a new car on a game show, dating a famous supermodel, or having a piano fall on your head. Despite those odds, intrepid anglers venture out every spring, ignore the rain and cold and personal hygiene, and search the depths for almighty trout. If you still think intrepid means brave, you’d be wrong. It means bonehead.

Between the rare moments of excitement when a trout actually does tighten a line, an angler has to find something to do. Some spit sunflower seeds, some spit tobacco, and some spit out fish tales. Sometimes those fish stories are harder to swallow than the cup of tobacco juice. Most of the boasts are rooted in reality, with a kernel of truth buried in there somewhere. Over time, however, they become twisted and grotesque and take on a life of their own, like the celebrities who love plastic surgery.

Last week, I ventured north to sit in a boat in the rain, sleep in a tent in the rain, stand under a tree in the rain, and start a fire in the rain. I even tried a little fishing. Lesser anglers might have complained about the raw weather, but trout hunters are made of more sandpaper than sugar. None of my fellow boneheads were complaining either, and at times it was so tranquil on the lake I thought I could hear fish laughing underneath the boat. And then the stories started.

Our local experts, Al and Jim, have been fishing together since Burt Reynolds had his own hair, and both are masters of the fish tale. They will tell you, for example, that years ago they were fishing together in a derby. Their only gear in the boat that day was a pole, line and bobber each, plus a case of ginger ale between them. What went into the drinks, and in what amount, differs depending on who is telling the tale, and how much ginger ale he has downed when he tells it. While the pros were throwing lures such as the Chubby Darter, Rocket Chad and Ugly Otter at the waves, Al and Jim were fishing with worms, drifting aimlessly, and sipping ginger ale.

Between the tall tales and laughter, they actually pulled in a pair of fish large enough to win prizes. It’s a classic tale, and may even seem true, to the intrepid. And then there’s the story of the time Jim was out and the trout were biting. He caught his limit, but couldn’t stop, and quickly filled his stringer with tasty fish. The game warden he met on the way home was not as impressed, and asked Jim what he was doing with so many fish. Jim told the warden that they were his pet fish, and he liked to bring them down to the lake to swim around. All he had to do was whistle once and they would swim right back onto the stringer; and he could prove it. The intrepid government employee watched as Jim set his fish free. After a few minutes of silence he asked when the fish were coming back. “What fish?” was Jim’s reply.

It’s hard to know what is fact and what is fiction when you hear a story like that. You want to believe it, and maybe it really is true. Just be careful, and look up. Because a piano just might be falling on your head.