Dear Carp - The Rematch And The Blessing

Dear Carp,

Yesterday I went to the mercantile store extra early, where I worked in a fevered pace and harder than usual in order to leave the store early and come to you.  I came to you and yours looking for a redeeming rematch to the whipping I took the day prior. 

When I arrived at your home the thunder clouds had begun to form and take a firm stance.  The thunder was rolling and lightning streaked across the western sky.  The sky was letting go of only a few sprinkles of rain, but they seemed to be drops of hope.

In the upper shallows I saw one of your citizens that was quite impressive, so I sent out a Creek Critter his way.  My gift landed to his right and I watched his movement, which told me he liked what he saw.  A soft jab followed and we were connected in the rematch that I was looking for.

This fellow was stout with big shoulders and it wasn't long until he took me to the center of the mat, if you will, and there we found ourselves in the middle of the creek as the sky opened up and the good rains came.  The thunder was now louder and the lightning even more threatening.  I felt like I was in an unsafe place, but it was the place I wanted to be in hopes of making my comeback. 

Ten minutes passed and I finally worked my opponent into a corner and in this case the corner was the fringe of the creek.  With a gentle and subtle hand I took his tail in my hand and with my other hand cradle his underside to lift him out of the water.

 

 

After visiting with this citizen it was time to get him back in the drink and say adios.  He swam away quite healthy.

 

 

It wasn't long after the battle the real blessing for you and your kind not to mention angler alike came.  The sky opened up even more and the most delightful thunder shower began.  An inch and half of rain is what we received and although we need much more, this event certainly helps us all. 

 

Blessings sometimes come in short portions and perhaps more will come our way.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher



 

Dear Carp - Unanimous Decision

Dear Carp,

If the ring-side judges had been positioned at the fringe of your home today, they would have declared a unanimous decision for you and your kind declaring you the victor.  Thanks for the arse kicking.

In round one I choose to lead with the original Aftermath gift I tied some weeks ago.  With the brightly colored body, appetizing worm tail at one end, and the tantalizing fibers that undulate, this gift is hard for any fish to refuse.  It's a Trojan horse of sorts. 

With the Aftermath I threw the first punch, but evidently the punch was quite faint.  The citizen that took that blow threw a counterpunch and it was hard enough to knock the Aftermath out of commission and the gift became the property of that citizen. 

In round two I choose an olive Curiosity with brown tail and targeted a rather large citizen of your community.  With a long distance haymaker that missed it's mark, this citizen decided to catch me off guard and claim victory in round two by knocking out my second contender.

I was well behind in the early rounds, so for round three I tied on a brand new Aftermath that had just been created about an hour prior.  In this round I would begin to make a comeback and was able to put a younger citizen on the mat.

 

When the bell sounded for round four I was feeling quite confident as I sent the Aftermath out into the middle of the ring.  I took a hit and as I counterpunched, the Aftermath came sailing out of the ring and landed high in a tree where, unfortunately, this pugilist was lost.

 

I then threw in the towel.  My arse had been kicked. 

 

It's good for the angler to have a good old fashion arse kicking every once in a while.  A arse kicking knocks us off that high and haughty horse we sometimes ride when we begin to think we can come to you and capture you at will. 

 

An arse kicking is also good for the angler because once we accept our defeat we can spend more time enjoying the beauty that surrounds us.  Today, I took great pleasure in simply admiring the trees and the fine details they own. 

 

 

 

As I sit under the tree with a refreshing breeze cooling the summer-like temperatures I enjoyed a most delightful musical courtesy of the birds above.  Never have I heard the birds put on such a wonderful concert. 

 

My friends, I do not know when I will return for a rematch.  The mercantile store is still robbing me of much time and it's time I miss so much.

 

Of all the time with you that I am denied as a result of my servitude at the store I think the time I miss the most is that time I find myself standing at the fringe of your home as day breaks. 

 

Maybe soon I can stand there again.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher

 



Dear Carp - A Long Time Coming

Dear Carp,

It has been well over two weeks since I come to you last.  My reason for not visiting with you is the same as usual.  My employment is keeping me away from you and your kind.  With a new project under my wing at work I find myself in a do or die situation.  Unfortunately, I have no choice but to see the new project to a path of success and have given my word to do just that.  So, my time in coming to you may very well be scattered and scant.

It still seems the rain fall cannot find us.  In the last two weeks there have been many promises of rain but simple traces have been delivered.  They say that this situation is a cycle, but I would argue that the cycle we are experiencing has been far extended past the usual length of a drought. 

It pains Charlie, Van, and yours truly to see you in such a situation.  Drought is not good for fish nor man, but you are the ones that will suffer the most.  We will continue to hold out hope that the good rains will come soon.

Today, as I stepped at the threshold of your home, I spotted a feeding carp in the upper shallows.  I sent out a yellow bug like the Aftermath and he tried to eat it, but I missed an easy hook set.  A few seconds later I saw another of your citizens and he too liked the yellow bug and this time the hook set was good. 

 

 

Perhaps I will get to visit with you again sooner rather than later. 

 

Perch Plucking With A Goose

Today I did something I haven't done in a long time and it felt good.  Today, I went fly fishing for the perch.

Yesterday while getting blown away by the wind on Blue River fly fishing with my buddy Van, I commented to Van that I thought I would fish the pasture known as Forty Foot on the sea lane Rock Creek in pursuit of the carp Van has been telling me about.

However, the sun stayed hidden all day today behind a totally overcast sky and that's when I decided to leave the carp flies behind and grab the small and vividly colored flies that the little fellows so like.

 

I've noticed I am a totally different fly fisherman when pursuing the carp compared to pursuing the perch.  When seeking communication with the carp I become a stalker and hunter and carry a heavy conviction to successfully meet one of the grand ones.  However, when pursuing the perch I have none of the aforementioned tendencies and I carry only a state of relaxation, a peace with existence, and fond memories of my youth fishing alongside my grandfather.  My grandfather taught me to fish by introducing me to the perch.  To my grandfather... and the perch, I owe more than I can ever repay. 

 

Upon arriving at Forty Foot I was the sole human being, but I did have company in the form and fashion of one solitaire goose.  He was looking at me looking at him looking at me, or maybe I was looking at him while he was looking at me looking at him.  I'm not for sure... it gets kind of confusing where your staring at a goose. 

 

The goose seemed quite unconcerned about what I was doing and stayed around for a good bit until he took flight and flew directly over my head like a B-52 on a bombing mission.  Fortunately he didn't bomb me.

 

 

 

As in most cases, the perch today were more than willing and I think this is one reason they are simply fun.  Perch, whether it be the Long ear, Redbreast, Blue Gill, Red Ear, Rock Bass, or any of the others that make up the menagerie of the pan-fish community, always give as good as they get.  I'm not for sure if it's their curiosity or voracious appetites that cause them to absolutely inhale a bright colored or small imitation fly, but I have learned that we always need to make sure to use barb-less hooks or mash the barb completely down.  With perch, there is a high probability they will swallow our flies down deep. 

 

 

 

Today, the perch brought a little sunshine to a somewhat gloomy day. 

 

I am a fortunate man to live such a wonderful life through fly fishing.  I wish the goose would have stuck around a little longer.  

 



 

 



Peace Offering

My buddy, then former buddy, now brand new buddy Van Stacey came by today with a peace offering of sorts to try and say, in an around about way, "Sorry for catching a Redhorse Sucker without you being there." 

Van's peace offering came in the form and fashion of those wonderful and highly sought-after delicacies from the woods where the wild wood weed and other natural wonders grow. 

Van's gift is certainly enough to make us "buds" again without the hugs and kisses and besides that we're not built that way anyhow. 

We now have a fly-fishing trip planned for this weekend in search of bass, trout, carp, and yes... that darn Blue River Redhorse Sucker that is eluding me. 

The morels are going in the batter and frying pan tomorrow.

I'm real good right now.

Blue River Redhorse Sucker Club Grows

On Saturday the exclusive Blue River Redhorse Club added a new member.... and it wasn't me.

Yours truly was attending the Dutch Oven Cook-off competition as part of the Arbuckle Simpson Nature Festival.  This event would require a good deal of work and time, and there wouldn't be anytime for this fly fisher to get to Blue River or anywhere else to fish. 

Around mid-morning, Van Stacey and his lovely wife Kempy (my daughter I might add) showed up at the cook-off where Van wasted little time in obligingly sampling my Dutch oven fare.  I think it was somewhere between a bite of roasted vegetables and Mexican cornbread that Van announced, directed at me, that he would indeed be going to Blue River to fly fish.  A few seconds later he made the boast that he thought while he was there he would just go ahead and catch a Redhorse Sucker, which he very well knows has been something I desperately want to achieve. 

Here I was arse deep in Dutch ovens and charcoal and old buddy Van was rubbing the salt in.  Perhaps I should now say former old buddy. 

After stuffing his face with vittles, Van and Kempy departed my company and headed to Blue River.  I had to stick around the cook-off for the results and as soon as that was done I dead-headed back to the bunkhouse. 

 

Three hours later, while sitting at the Sonic waiting on my No. 1 Cheeseburger to arrive... you know who poked a cell phone in front of my face with a picture displayed.  Although the sun was blocking my view I could tell it was Van, and in his hand was one Redhorse Sucker.  There, in that picture was Van sporting a possum face smile and holding the Blue River species I so want to catch. So, on April 27th, Van comes and eats my Dutch oven food, tells me he's going fly fishing (when he knows I can't), and that he might just catch a Redhorse Sucker, which he does and then shares with me a picture with a smirk on his face.  Rubbing more salt... just keep on rubbing Mr. Stacey. 

 

If that ain't a shit-eatin' grin on his face, I've never seen one.

Van now becomes a member of the elite Blue River Redhorse Sucker Club and I think his entry raises the membership to nine.  He probably doesn't want me to tell you the pattern he caught this Redhorse on, but I'm going to... because I can - it was our favored Brown Bugger. 

 



Dear Carp - Not As Planned

Dear Carp,

Saturday morning I was looking forward to my second day off in a very long time.  My plan was to get a good night of rest Friday evening and therefore come visit you early on Saturday morning.  However, in the late evening hours of Friday my best friend Drift begin to have seizures.

His seizures is something I became aware of shortly after he came into my life.  A visit to the doctor that tends to dogs, and other creatures, resulted in a controlling medicine that will shorten the ferocity of the seizures themselves.  After his first episode Friday evening, I administered the medicine followed by another does a short while later.  The medicine wasn't working it seemed and after the seventh or eighth seizure episode... as the hopelessness fell over me... I decided to talk to God. 

Over all the years I've talked to God I've learned that God doesn't have much to say in return.  I figure this is due to the fact God is too busy listening to all of us. 

Sometime after the midnight hour the seizures subsided, but a good night's rest would not come my way or the way of my friend.  He was exhausted and I was too.

However, I rose early the next morning with the plans I had made, but decided to run by the mercantile store just to check on things.  Upon arriving at the store I discovered that the young assistant I have fell prey to the follies of whatever takes place on Friday night's.  I use to know what those follies entailed myself, but that's been many years ago.  My plan changed status to "Not as planned." 

In the afternoon yesterday I did see a opportunity of possibly one hour at your home where we could visit so the waders went on.

Standing in the upper shallows of one of our favored pastures, I knew that your citizens had formed a herd in this area because they felt protected by a thick weave of natural debris that had been crocheted by the strong winds of late.

This blanket was so thick it hid your citizens well and getting my gift, the Aftermath, past the fabric would be quite a chore.  I did see an opening though and on my first roll-out a young member of your clan sent me a signal with the tell-tale movement in my clear tether. 

 

Moving downstream, the Aftermath went out again and one of your kin attacked the gift as if he was quite concerned of any of your other citizens laying claim to it before he could. 

 

 

With some time still left I moved to the big pool to send out some gifts on the blind.  The wind was strong yesterday and the riffles also his your kinship.  I sent out two new gifts, but they drew no interest from the lot of you and therefore I bid you farewell.

 

 

There was a lot going on in these parts this weekend my friends.  At Rock Creek campground there was a conclave of a vintage fiberglass rod group that I hoped to attend.  Your friend Charlie got to go and cast some fine glass rods and see some fine reels.  I, unfortunately, didn't make it.  Also, there was an outdoor expo taking place, but I didn't get to attend that function either.

 

From left to right are Carl Sims, Larry Compton, Les Jackson, Jeff Mitchell, and Kurt Jackson.  Members of the fiberglass flyrodders conclave.

 

Tomorrow is Earth Day my friends and knowing my schedule is full, I decided to come to you today and rid your home of a good deal of trash.  I carried two 39 gallon trash bags with me and that seemed suffice today, but there is more to deal with.  All the trash in your home and along the bank at the pasture known as Honey Hole was removed.  However, there is still that steep hill to deal with, so I will return with a rake and rope and bring it down to within my grasp.

 

 

 

There was lots of hand trash in your home such as Styrofoam, plastic bottles, snuff cans, and plastic bags. 

 

 

 

 

This little fellow, that shares your home, seemed to appreciate the trash being removed.

 

I do not know what to tell you about the rain that has not come our way.  There has been rain all around us like the six inches that fell on the prairie ocean current at Medicine Park.  We received only a trace and I don't understand what is going on. 

 

Guess I can talk to God about that also.

 

I hope to see you again soon my friends.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher 

 

 



 









Dear Carp - Removed

Dear Carp,

I came to your home today not in hopes of any conversations, but rather to perform a task that has been eating at me for a good while.

My hope today was to give you somewhat a little better home by removing two major pieces of trash that have no business being in your sea-lane. 

I brought with me a strong tether because once I retrieved these items from your sea-lane I would have to haul them up a slightly steep hill. 

 

My time was quite tight today so I waded straight in and headed directly for today's targets.  Of these two pieces of the artifacts of modern man, I thought all along the barrel would be the most difficult of the two to take down the creek. 

 

 

I decided to tackle the barrel first and to my pleasant surprise the barrel was quite an easy chore once I got it upright and the water poured.  The barrel simply floated down the sea-lane like a wrecked ship on it's way to dry dock.

 

 

Next came the school desk and this piece of garbage like to eat my lunch.  That's a term we use in my world my friends.  Simply put... it was much heavier than I imagined. 

 

However, the desk finally came to be beached on a sea-lane shelf and now it was time to get these modern artifacts up the hill and on their way to, unfortunately, a landfill somewhere.

 

 

Now it was time to get this trash up the hill and knowing you have seen me many times you know I'm not a spring chicken and not that big a guy.  However, this is where the strong tether came into play.  I simply tied the tether on the artifacts and pulled them up the hill and then about 100 yards to the road side where hopefully they'll be removed by the city stewards.

 

 

Sweet beasts, your home is somewhat cleaner today with two pieces of garbage removed.  Hundreds remain... but, they will be retrieved also as time allows.  Being a trash man is a dirty business, but a little dirt never hurt anyone.

 

 

Take care grand creatures.  The rain is on it's way they tell us.  Let us hope they are right.

 

 

Sincerely,

 

 

Prairie Ocean Fly Fisher