We caught enough for my family to eat their fill of fish tacos. The tender crappie filets are complemented by a spicy sour cream, pickled onions, and cilantro. There were enough pieces left over to freeze for some chowder, too. But you can’t cook fish chowder in seasons where your windows are closed. You want to smell it while you’re eating it, not for the rest of the week. It would almost be worth it. Cooked only hours after swimming 15 feet down, it is hard to beat fresh fish.
It seems like there is at least one obligatory post like this on Casting Across every quarter or so. The sixth man of my fly fishing writing has a real affinity for using a spinning rod and eating fish. On one hand there is a polemical angle in these articles. Fishermen are fishermen (even if they’re women or children). We have much more in common when we’re casting something into water than we do with everyone else in the world. I suppose that those looking to harvest fish are a bit more consistent, as they don’t have to worry about the potential for harming fish. They’re going the whole way. Sometimes I go the whole way, too.
There is another reason why I write about using conventional tackle. We can learn a lot from deep trolling, buzzbait tossing, and vertical jigging. The gear, certainly the electronics and motors, are alien to the usual equipment of the fly angler. But the skills of observation transfer over quite well. Locate the creek channel. Target the drop offs. Focus on cover. Understand the movement of fish throughout the day and the seasons, according to the thermometer and barometer. There is much more to finding fish than riffle, run, pool, and match the hatch.
Corollary to that is the individual expertise. I’ve been in boats with people who have a sixth sense for bass and salmon. They know which color of soft plastic the fish will want. Somehow they know their second choice, too. They can quickly cycle through retrieve styles that seem imperceptibly identical to me, but apparently the fish and them see a great contrast. And then there is the detection of the take. No bobbers or strike indicators. No dry fly takes. No tight line thumps. Just slight changes in line tension and a nebulous, intuitive feel.
I’d be remiss to not circle back around to the shedding of blood and the subsequent consumption of fish. Assuming the angler looking for a meal catches the target species within the legal limits, barbed hooks and safe handling aren’t big concerns. Whip the thing up on the deck, toss it in the livewell, and then think about hot oil or ceviche. Catch enough and you get to think about both. We’re not talking about a wild trout in a recovering ecosystem. We’re talking about crappie and catfish in waters that are flourishing to the point of overpopulation. Aside from being a tasty meal, it is a terrific way to illustrate stewardship to that kid you’ve taken fishing.
Perhaps it is because my spinning gear is still sitting out on top of my fly rods. But this self-imposed requisite article seemed appropriate for today. Just like that delicious crappie-filled fish chowder will be appropriate – once I can cook with the windows open.