Fishing Humor

A friend, and superb fly-tier, was lamenting to me today that whenever he used duck quills he could always find plenty of usable quills on the left wing, but fewer on the right. Immediately I understood the complete global implications of this information -- ducks don't actually migrate, but their stronger left wing causes them to fly in very large circles, of which we only detect the resting points...

I don't have close friends - not, at least, when I am fly fishing. There was one fellow I was attached to for quite some time, but we were finally able to extract the hook. He has since kept his distance...

For those who are unfamiliar with the Pisscalator concept, the purpose of the invention is to allow a gentleman angler to continue fishing when the water in which he was standing is deep, and the fluid in his bladder is registering "FULL". No longer will it be necessary for the devoted fisherman to wade back to shore, find a convenient (and discrete) tree, and partially disrobe in order to respond to Nature's urgent call -- the Pisscalator allows the fisherman to blithely catch and enjoy “release” simultaneously.

My first three prototypes of the Pisscalator presented design issues that would have made them less than marketable, though not always lethal. However, the Pisscalator “Mark IV” incorporates a radically new design. While the previous prototypes used external force to pump or suction the fluid away...

Some people are at their best when they're not breathing. Now, I don't wish any harm to them - just a cessation of the respiratory process. Especially when they sleep. Most especially when they sleep in a cabin ... in the woods ... with me ... during a bitter northern winter...

While wandering the aisles of my local fly shop in search of a half-price sale on Blue Chatterer - or Condor Quills three-for-a-dollar - I encountered a rack of chest-high fishing waders ornamented with a waterproof zipper in the front. Imagine, I thought, being able to stand up to your waist in fast water, thirty feet (but twenty minutes of wading) from shore, and you can relieve yourself without problems! But how did they design it so that you can unzip without water pouring in?

As I pondered that question, a thought surfaced in my mind, wallowed for a moment (disoriented in the unfamiliar environment) and then fled. But this momentary flash of insight was sufficient to provide a simple solution to that ageless angling dilemma – male incontinence midstream.

Eric Reaves is an avid fly fisherman - that should be recommendation enough - yet he also has twenty years of cartooning experience, having spent the last thirteen years drawing the comic strip, “GARFIELD”, for Jim Davis. In the industry Eric is termed a “ghost” – an essential part of a creative team of inkers and writers that produce the most widely syndicated comic strip in history. As well, Eric recently received the 2007 Hoosier State Press Association's- “Editorial Cartoonist of the Year” for his superb editorial cartoons.

A few months ago, Eric and I decided to try an amalgam, written and graphic, of our humor work. Eric took some of my humor pieces and enhanced them, - nay, completed them - with his delightful interpretations of my words.

I hope you fully enjoy the works that follow. For more of Eric's illustrations see Eric Reave's Art

"And about time, too", I thought. Just two days ago Eve had broken the tip of my favorite 9' 5wt. rod, a masterpiece in split cane, while trying to knock some fruit out of a tree. As if there wasn't plenty of low-hanging fruit; but the fruit salad surprise she made for us that evening had been delicious. Then yesterday she grabbed the other tip for a "curtain rod".

"What is a curtain for?", I asked.

"It keeps people from looking in our house."

"But there is no one to look."

"Go fishing, Adam...", she sighed. That I understood. She's a good woman, I suppose, though I don't have any others for comparison. So, I went fishing.

I usually try to catch the evening rise on the Pison, there is a medium size mayfly that is quite dependable for a two hour hatch. My fishing buddy, Jehovah, enjoys the Garden in the cool of the evening. He will sit on the bank for hours, watching His bobber and talking about all manner of things, as I work the slightly faster water with a #16 Sulphur (dry, of course). I realized yesterday that Jehovah is a bait fisherman - funny I never noticed that before. I must talk to Him about that, I'm not sure I want to be seen in the company of a bait fisherman. Hey, there I go! Who would see us?...

There have been many attempts at creating a compendium of technical terms for fly fisherfolk; some are quite useful, but none capture the nuances of a language - flyfisherspeak - which is inherently context-sensitive. Parsing our fishing vocabulary is more physically critical than declining Latin (unless you are a declining Latin) for an error in translation may be severely injurious to one's health. For example, if you are strolling behind a line of salmon fishermen on the Salmon River in Pulaski and your companion says "Watch out for that slinky...", it is best not to casually look around for an attractive thirty-year-old blonde in a low-cut dress. These are fishermen whose cast can put you in one.

Flyfisherspeak is so subtle that communication between any two fly fisher persons meeting for the first time is an exercise in applied diplomacy [Diplomacy: "The art of saying 'Nice doggie' until you can find a rock.” - Will Rogers]. So, as a diplomatic service to the fly fishing community, I wish to present the first Fly Fishing De-Glossary...

I Am the Very Model of a Modern Fly Fishing Guide
(with apologies to Sirs Gilbert and Sullivan)

I am the very model of a modern fly-fishing guide,
I've information on each sandbar, trouty run, and fishy glide,
I am conversant in all matters ichthyological,
From whitefish to salar - in order categorical.

"You can lead a horticulture, but you cannot make her think." - Dorothy Parker

Oh, Dorothy, how true -- if you mean the fly fishing media gurus. Of course, to suggest that professional fishing writers would prostitute their talents is to do them a great disservice -- they also pimp. It's the new era of full-service "servicing" available through a fly fishing magazine near you...

I don't have close friends. Not, at least, when I am fly fishing. There was one fellow I was attached to for quite some time, but we were able to get the hook out and he has since kept his distance...

I am, alas, ignorant concerning the complex financial indices of Wall Street , knowing only that they relate to a myth called "Money". However, having spent twenty-eight years with the world's finest woman, I have acquired a fine appreciation of the nuances of Marital Angling Indices Management (MAIM)...

Not a rise. If a friend hadn't assured me that this pool was the home of "some decent trout" I would have thought the water barren. Then it came to me! With all my flies I had been appealing to the trouts' sense of sight... but what about their sense of decency?...

I could see the backing, it was just down the aisle from the rack of Powerbait. I wasn't mightily impressed. It looked just as I remembered when I last spooled some on a reel. Just some string - tough but not noteworthy. "Self", I said to myself, "why does every other fly fisher see backing and wax eloquent about it; why do I never experience the joy of "the screaming reel?"...

You have to try it, but you feel in your gut that this fly, like the other thirty-seven you've tried, is not going to interest the trout. Most of your morning has been spent changing flies while alternately scowling at the plunge pool, tying Turle knots, adding tippet, and stifling sighs.

Some people are at their best when they're not breathing. Oh, I don't wish any harm to them; just a cessation of the respiratory process. Especially when they sleep. Most especially when they sleep in a cabin ... in the woods ... with me ... during a bitter northern winter...

It struck me with a violence I can only attribute to cogent thought; unfamiliar with it as I am, the sustained thought left me weak and shaken. All the years of striving to achieve some measure of harmony with the natural world were for naught. I saw myself in truth, a flagrant user of non-renewable resources, led into that cancerous condition through fly fishing. With as firm a resolve as a perpetually tottering will would permit, I vowed that "I shall be Green!"...

A friend, and superb fly-tier, was lamenting to me today that whenever he used duck quills he could always find plenty of usuable quills on the left wing, but fewer on the right. Immediately I understood the complete global implications of this information -- ducks don't actually migrate, but their stronger left wing causes them to fly in very large circles, of which we only detect the resting points...