The Complete Tangler
The bird whisperer
Plunk! Something had just struck one of the windows that look out on our back porch. Being curious, I went out onto the porch to see what had caused the noise. To my chagrin, I found one of our little wrens lying unconscious on the deck. Read more
Email this pageRats!
In the past two weeks, one thing and another has prevented me from going trout hunting. First, doctors and dentist appointments, then an afternoon spent with Misako Ishimura, which gave Barb and me each the opportunity to say good-bye to Mark Romero by dropping a handful of his ashes into Stewart Brook. Thus, Mark’s remains were started on a slow journey down the Catskill waters that he loved. He was a long time member of Theodore Gordon Flyfishers and served for many years on their conservation committee. Read more
Happiness, then sorrow
As our trip north came to an end, our first stop was Peck’s Market, and then on to the post office at Hankins, NY. There was a surprise waiting for me there. I had thought that my assortment of curves and fastballs had shut down anyone stepping into the batters’ box. However, a fellow named Robert Moase from Sweet Valley, PA, swings a fast bat. He whacked that batting practice fastball into right for a clean single. Hmm, I’d better pitch this fellow carefully. Read more
And the answers are...
After a telephone conversation with Mr. Wayne Grauer, I do not think I will be called upon to give away any poorly tied flies this year. Wayne is a purveyor of both new and used bamboo fly rods and knows quite a bit regarding fly fishing history. Mr. Grauer complained that the quiz this year was really tough. Some of you may simply need a few extra hours of batting practice. Read more
Quiz time
The time has come when the crack of the bat on ball, the smack of the line drive hitting the shortstop’s glove is echoing throughout the land. A small coterie of millionaires is again playing a game that once belonged to the boys of summer. Therefore, it is time for me to warm up my venerable right arm. I am once again hoping to send you young whippersnappers back to the bench, dragging your bats behind you. Just to falsely build your confidence, the first pitch will be a batting practice fastball, waist high, right down the middle at 85 miles an hour. Step up, batter. Read more
Exposed or hidden
In recent weeks, I have been playing the role of fly-tying instructor for those new to the art. Ah yes, I realize some might say that this was akin to the lame leading the blind. So be it. In fact, at both classes, before I even put thread to the hook shank, the words of the lead instructors in charge indicated there was a flaw in my technique. They had told the students to place the hook in the vice with the hook point exposed. Ooops! I could only hope that no one would notice that I had placed my hook in the vice with the hook point concealed. Read more
The case of the vanishing key
Let us go back in time to August 21, 2010. Due to the generosity of Mr. Gibson McKean, my fishing buddy Dr. Oliver Herz, DVM, and I were to have an opportunity to fish Cliff Lake. Mr. McKean owns the land surrounding the lake and also has the key to unlock the gate guarding the premises. We were to meet Mr. McKean at noon so that he could guide us through the maze of dirt roads that lead to the lake and also unlock the gate for us. Read more
A long day’s journey into paradise
The uppermost wellspring of this river of time burst from the ground in 1948. I had borrowed a book from the Kingsbridge branch of the New York public library system titled “Trout,” by Ray Bergman. To a plug-casting bass fisherman, the hundreds of delicate flies shown in this book, painted by Dr. Edgar Burke, seemed too pretty to possibly catch fish. These flies came in every shade and color imaginable. Also, they had wonderful, magical names, such as the Queen of the Waters, Rio Grande King, Parmachenie Belle, Kingfisher, Light Edson Tiger and the Black Ghost. Read more
Trout hunting
As a young boy, I always enjoyed taking exploratory hikes into forested hills and valleys far off the beaten path. My curiosity would urge me to seek whatever mysteries lay in the valley just over the next hill. When I am on a trout stream, the current pushes me along until I discover what lies around the next bend. Sometimes this curiosity leads to difficulties. My aging legs remind me that I am no youngster. Yet my curiosity suggests that the unknown and beautiful lies only a bit further on. Read more
