I am all for the safe handling of fish; especially trout. But I’ve seen plenty of things in my decades of being outdoors to dispel any assertions that trout are delicate organisms living their lives in constant threat of mortal peril. You can kill a fish if you’re careless. They’re also a lot more robust that we give them credit for.

Empirically, fish persevere because they get big and perpetuate their populations. Anecdotally, I’ve encountered trout that should not be alive but are.

There was the sixteen-inch rainbow with the snagging hook stuck in it’s gut. Just north of his anal fin, the  golf ball sized treble hook sat embedded and snug. The fish ate my fly just fine. He fought well; perhaps from the perpetual weight lifting he had been engaging in for who knows how long. There was no sign of infection. There wasn’t any indication of malnourishment or stress. I removed the hook, tossed him back in, and he swam away. I’m confident he’s awaiting an opportunity to repay the favor.

I’ve also caught plenty of trout that have been snacks. Fish have pursued and taken flies with bites taken out of them. They’re swimming and eating with chunks missing from their backs, their heads, and their fins. I haven’t matched the divots up with animal dental records, but I’m confident that the aggressors ranged from muskrats to herons to toothy fish. Some didn’t look long for this world. But that is just my amateur veterinary opinion. Others looked as if they had healed up quite well, considering their spine was still exposed.

Hatchery fish also destroy the frailty narrative. Some rub every edge of their body raw in concrete raceways, only to grow to “trophy size.” Others are put together from the genetic crust on the edge of the petri dish. They are missing jaws, fins, or straight bodies. Yet they make it into the stocking truck and can be seen, looking weird and kind of sad, swimming in your local put-and-take water.

Wild fish put themselves in all sorts of peril on the regular. They don’t have hands, so they touch what they want to touch with their mouths. One river system that I regularly fished was thick with crawfish. Big, angry, lobster-in-the-tank sized crawfish. The smallmouth in the main stem grew fat on them. Ambitious trout would drop down from the feeder creeks and go after them too. Fish were caught with claws and legs and carapace sticking out of their gullets and gills. I never had the pleasure, but I’ve seen pictures of crawfish claws “waving” from the backside of trout.

By all means, don’t fish if the water temps are high. Use barbless hooks. Play fish quickly. Keep fish wet. But don’t think that they’re going to dissolve like centuries-old pottery when you touch them. They’re designed to eat crunchy, pointy stuff that fights back. They’re meant to be food, too. They live in moving water and in between rocks. They’re tough, so give them credit where credit is due and don’t call them fragile.