
Back in the spring I was paddling the shallows, casting into likely spots to see what kind of fish I could get into. This pond – a slow part of a river, actually – holds largemouth, smallmouth, chain pickerel, yellow perch, stocked trout and salmon, and a handful of other species. I had already landed a large pickerel and a number of perch, but larger fish were elusive. In this situation it is always and only the fault of the lure, so I decided that after one more cast I would switch to something larger. This would, of course, elicit strikes from the larger fish I had been presenting my paltry offering to already.
One more cast. Famous last words. For many anglers they mean a few more hours on the water past the point when good judgement would have had them home. For a few, it is the cast from which memories are made. “Then he hit,” you brag, “on the last cast of the day.” Incidentally, you probably made a few more casts. But what is a little embellishment between fishermen?
For one golden shiner, “one more cast” wasn’t just a phrase. It was a death sentence.
At this point in the story I have already tipped my hand. A fish died. That, both in context and in a vacuum, is a sentence that sends the online angling police after you these days. The shedding of innocent golden shiner blood? Too much to bear. Capitalizing on the tragedy with pictures and jocularity? Atrocious.
Let me explain.








