Fishing and lying seem to go together.

spectr17

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Fishing and lying seem to go together.

Ron Schara, Minneapolis-St.Paul Star Tribune
Wednesday, July 11, 2001  


All fishermen are liars -- except you and me.

Sure. And we will fish on the waterfront in Arizona.

Fishing and lying seem to go together. Since the days of Izaac Walton, anglers have had a reputation for not telling the truth or, for sure, stretching it a bit.

Hey, it's been all clean fun, hasn't it?

Historically, the best anglers thrived on secrets. Secret spots. Secret baits. Secret little gizmos that nobody else had.

Fishing guides especially practiced the tightest lip policy. It helped business. The only way to learn the guide's secrets was to hire the guide.

Today, the angling fraternity is mostly composed of loose lips.

In this age of information, fishing magazines are regularly chock full of information on when and how to find and catch fish.

Angling pros and fishing guides write true confession columns, revealing their secrets for finding fish in every possible mode. Big-money tournament anglers seem anxious to tell all, but only after the check's been cashed.

And who hasn't marveled at the fishing shows on television in which the host seems to catch fish on every cast?

What happened to all the secrecy?

Well, it's harder to be secretive these days. With techo-gadgets such as GPS (Global Positioning Systems), an angler who couldn't find his way home is able to mark and re-find the fishing hot spots of others.

Angling entrepreneurs also have found profits in selling fishing information in the form of fishing maps, books, charts and, you name it, we anglers are apt to buy it.

Why? Because most of us continue to get skunked more often than we'd like to get skunked.

Does this mean the fine angling tradition of stretching the truth has gone the way of boat oars?

How many oars do you have in the water?

We anglers still love to, well, not tell the truth.

Just the other day I was chatting with a couple of fellas who were parked at the One Stop in Longville.

"Nice boat," I said. "Been fishing walleyes?"

"Muskies," one fella replied.

His partner chimed in.

"The muskies on Little Boy are really going. We had 17 up yesterday. But those fish would only look at one or two different lures," he said.

(As one angler to another, I know my next question was a foolish one to ask, but I was testing a theory.)

"Wow," I said. "What lure was that?"

One fella paused and then blurted out some name that sounded like something bait.

"Did you say live something?" I replied.

"No, it's the mumble, mumble lure," he answered, diverting his eyes.

Whatever lure he was talking about, I'd never heard of it or anything close to whatever he was saying. I also knew at that exact moment that one fisherman (he) was lying to another (me).

As I turned to leave, I glanced back. The fella on the passenger side of the truck had rolled up the window and was laughing.

I smiled, too.

When anglers lie to each other, life is normal.
 

Fubar

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All fishermen are liars except you and me and sometimes I am not so sure about you.        Fubar
 
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