Despite the fact I write a moderately successful fly fishing blog, I’m well aware of my place in fly fishing’s predatory food chain. (Hint: not very high.)
That has a lot to do with my tendency to experience the sport on my own terms instead of the trout’s, and normally, I’m fine with that.
A small kid holding a big Brook trout. A vision of my future?
Still, after Alert Underground Reader Ian fired me an email about a 9 year-old who caught a South Carolina state-record Brook trout, things crystallized in my brain.
Namely, my future.
Sure, on the surface, this reads like one of those heartwarming “little kid kicks butt” stories, though the Underground’s Director In Charge of Reading Between the Lines noted right away the insidious nature of the tale.
As in the following: My daughter is going to do exactly the same thing to me some day.
In fact, I can predict – with a high degree of certainty – that the following will occur while teaching Underground Child Star Little Meski to fly fish:
We’ll find ourselves at river’s edge, she’ll be whipping the rod around, expertly crafting leader tangles of gordian dimensions, and at some point I’ll sigh deeply, step in, and patiently begin untangling the day’s umpteenth knot.
Which is when a Great Big Brook Trout (The Official Char of the Trout Underground) will rocket out from under a boulder and grab the shiny bright pink fly as it dangles on the surface – only a couple inches away from the rod tip.
Later, when some outdoor writer is facing a slow news day, he’ll get a call about this small kid who caught a big fish, and – in the search for a humorous news angle on the story – will get her dad to admit he got skunked that day, and that he’s never actually caught a Brook trout anywhere near as big as the one his tiny daughter landed by accident.
And that yes, Brook trout are his favorite trout.
It Goes Virally Wrong
The next thing you know, I’m the comic foil for every outdoor writer facing a slow news day (which is most of them most of the time), and the YouTube video of me soiling myself while my tiny, giggling daughter – using both hands – dead lifts a 15-pound Brook out of the water (on four-pound tippet) will go seriously viral.
While I stand there in stained pants, wondering what the hell just happened, my daughter will deliver the coup de grace by pointing at the flopping trout and saying something adorably ironic like: “daddy ever catch big fish?”
In seconds, the facade of omnipotence I’ve so carefully crafted at the Underground will disappear.
I will be unable to ever show my face on the Internet again.
And I might as well fold up and disappear into the earth.
How do I know this is going to happen? Could this just be my considerable imagination at work?
Not hardly.
We Offer Proof
After all, I’m the Guy Whose Dog Catches Brown Trout Which Fall From The Sky.
If you didn’t read it, that story outlines the unlikely adventure of Wally the Wonderdog, who – unlike me – managed to catch a trout that opening weekend. And this despite going nowhere near a river.
If that’s not proof enough (and given the paranoid conspiratorial mindset of most people these days, it should be), then I offer up the story of the Relative I Taught to Fly Fish in Maine.
It was his first fly fishing experience, and because we were fishing from a boat, I had him tie on a fly that was wholly unlike the bulky streamer that was clearly The Fly, thinking casting instruction would go a lot easier with a small nymph.
Within a dozen casts, he badly tangled his fly line around his rod tip, dropped his backcast in the water to untangle it, and minutes later, lifted the line to cast again – setting the hook on the biggest smallie of the day.
Despite being unable to cast much beyond the oars, he went on to outfish me in handily outlandish fashion.
To some, that’s simply a hard-luck story. To me – combined with the Wonderdog Event – it’s an omen. A portent.
A Preview of Things to Come
Yesterday, I was playing with Little M, and grew obsessed with kicking a lightweight plastic ball into a little plastic bowl.
After two dozen attempts, I gave up, sat down, and watched Little M accomplish the feat on her first try.
An innocent – and hugely lucky – coincidence?
Only a fool would believe that.
I’m tempted to re-live the outrages I’ve suffered at the hands of fly fishing buddies, who – despite clearly doing things all wrong – have managed to handily outfish me, but that’s a different story.
That’s simply the universe being unfair (or karma deferred).
Kids are a different matter.
They’re all cute and innocent and adorable, but beneath Meski’s shiny, food-smeared exterior lies a ruthless competitor bent on paternal humiliation, and at some primal, reptilian level – despite being unable to tie her shoes or pronounce “dry fly” – she’s got the Mad Embarrassment Skillz to pull it off.
It’s a staple element of science fiction yarns that knowing the future doesn’t necessarily afford us the ability to change it, the agonizing position where I currently find myself.
In the story of the nine year-old landing a state record Brook trout, I have seen the future, and it involves an emotionally crippling roundhouse kick to my ego.
Delivering that kick will be my innocent, wide-eyed, unbearably cute daughter, and – despite my college education and 35+ years experience in fishing – I remain powerless to stop it.
See you on the river, Tom Chandler.
TC,
Gonna call you out on this one. The only person who will be more excited than little M about her future fishing exploits will be you!
BillyB
(Also a new father)
Billy B(Quote)
As a long-time father (28-, 21-, 20- and 17-year-old kids), I can attest to the startling accuracy of your predictions. The only saving grace these days is that I can afford to fly to far-off venues, Alaska for one, where I can land a bigger fish, saved only by the fact that my kids can’t afford to follow. And I certainly will not pay their way just so they can outfish me!
Patrick(Quote)
I suppose an equivalent strategy would be to always fish while they’re in school, but then – as evidenced by Wally’s brown trout – a really, really big Brook trout would probably just fall from the sky in Little M’s hands.
Tom Chandler(Quote)
Protect your ego by making sure they are always using 7X tippet no matter the situation. If they can land a nice big “Hog†with it, than what the hell you kid’s the next Lefty.
Snowfly(Quote)
That’s gotta be good for at least two years of therapy later in life…
Tom Chandler(Quote)
“The next thing you know, I’m the comic foil for every outdoor writer facing a slow news day (which is most of them most of the time), and the YouTube video of me soiling myself while my tiny, giggling daughter – using both hands – dead lifts a 15-pound Brook out of the water (on four-pound tippet) will go seriously viral.” Ahhh…Hahahahahahahahaha. As I’ve said before, suffer, my friend, suffer!
Oh, and Ditto Billy B and Snowfly
Kentucky Jim(Quote)
I think you meant, “Omnade of facipotence”.
D
Davem(Quote)
Isn’t Omnade like jelly?
Tom Chandler(Quote)
I had only been trout fishing for 2 years when my 10 year old daughter (at the time) hooked a 16″ rainbow (much larger than the 8″ stockers I had been catching). She reeled for a few turns than turned and ran dragging it up onto the bank. Twice as big as my big fish at that time. But the look on her face was priceless!
jack dimling(Quote)
By age 10, I had spent so much time on the water that my parents probably assumed I would be raised by the fish. One memorable childhood moment clings to my memory like a Lyme disease infested tick… Heading to a local pond with my father, grandmother and sister, we arrived to see trout rising everywhere. While my father unloaded the canoe, my sister (two years younger) and I rigged up our poles with rabid anticipation. Before I could tie on a leader, lovely sister heaved a determined cast towards the water. Unfortunately, her hook had connected with my scalp somewhere along the way. I can assure you that 6lb test line is completely capable of pulling a small human being face first into the mud. My grandmother witnessed, first hand, all of the wonderful words I had learned from my father. A short time later, at the emergency room, a smartass doctor delighted at cutting away two inches of night-crawler (insert comment about bait fishing here) so that he could then snip the hook (pinch your barbs, folks). I bear still both the physical and emotional scars from that day.
So, you see, the solution to your problem is quite simple: have TWO. That way, they are too busy screwing each other over to show you up. Problem solved! I’ll send you the bill later.
Jamie Fullerton(Quote)
“Have two?”
I can almost see you sniggering in the shadows, whispering to your cohorts “the fool actually bought it.”
Having two means they outnumber you when one parent’s working or otherwise engaged.
No way. No how.
Tom Chandler(Quote)
J.Fullerton is very smart regarding having two children. Not only will they have a delightful time tormenting each other as children, but as adults they can share in the joys of your care when you are old and decrepit. My 29 year old only child is still not happy she is an only child. Maybe she just needs to go fishing more often with her two (and counting) children.
Rebecca Bowman(Quote)