Fishin’ fool

These days I am pretty much an indoor animal. Not so in my younger days. During high school I developed a perverse passion for freshwater fishing. I would become The Compleat Angler. The insane part was that I lived on Long Island, which was a salt-water fishing paradise.From my centrally located home in Nassau County I could travel 10 or 15 miles north or south to either Long Island Sound or the Great South Bay and Atlantic Ocean. Fluke, flounder and weakfish swam in abundance to the north while bluefish, sea bass and more fluke and flounder waited for hooks to be baited in the south.These were the days when a single fisherman would bring home 50 or 60 fish and pass them around to the neighbors. Sometimes the married fishermen did almost as well. This kind of excess was typical of the 1950s, when it seemed like we had an unlimited supply of everything.Today, I am told, there is a two-fish limit. I guess they throw the (slightly damaged) extra fish back and keep the two they want.u u uSalt water fishing was too easy for me. Anybody could board one of the many party boats, a walk-on deal that could accommodate 25 or more fishermen who could even rent their equipment for the day. Live bait was on the hooks and “chum,” a kind of bait chowder, thrown upon the waters to attract the hungry fishes.On the way home, the captain’s mate would clean your catch for a couple of bucks, so you didn’t have to invest too much of yourself into this pastime. This was perfect for the average suburbanite who already had enough on his plate, what with commuting and developing a decent ulcer.I taught myself to fly cast from a book. I practiced on the front lawn. My suburban neighbors thought I had a screw loose. “Catchin’ much?” was their idea of a clever quip.Over the long winter I learned how to tie flies. By the time spring rolled around, I had more flies than a hillbilly’s dog. Yes sir, I was ready to fool those wily trout. I could have used worms for bait, but this was just not done by true sportsmen. Worms were for kids with “fishin’ poles,” not sophisticated anglers.The fish were not all that interested. You see, trout are raised in fish hatcheries where they subsist on a diet of fresh liver from the attendants and lollipop sticks from visiting kids. Putting meat on a hook is just not done by the Compleat Anglers of this world. I never did learn how to tie a good imitation of a lollipop stick. Bill Abrams resides and casts for fish from his recliner in Pine Plains.