During this month of May, there seems to be a sense of excitement... a feeling of good times to come, a feeling wrapped in the warming weather of the spring season. Although that great mother known as nature has tended to try and take the wind from the sail, our vessel of pursuit of the grand ones continue.
In reading the yellowed and thinning page of fly fishing accounts, I note with great interest the words of Walton in describing the carp. "Queen of Rivers" was his reference... a fitting one I would think, an entitlement also, and a point I would engage with anyone that looks at the carp as a worthless creature.
Today is the 4th of May and it seems like a good enough day to brand a couple of these beeves we tend in our watery pastures. With the prairie schooner being out on loan, gear is packed to the mercantile store of which I labor. Rod, lanyard, and of course the possibles pouch. From the mercantile store I take the short walk to an overgrown trail that will lead me to the first pasture of the afternoon.
From the possibles pouch comes the Carp Carrot... a well worn Carp Carrot if you will. At the pasture known as the Courtyard there is a carp about twenty-five feet out and the offering goes sailing toward him. The fly disappears from sight, but there is a sense that the carp is on it and with rod tip lifted sharply the hook lassos the beast.
Further upstream the second carp of the day is captured with the same carrot and as I'm trying to capture the memory of the fish on the line in the water, the memory recorder slips from my hand and takes the drink. Today's trip to the bottom of the creek was trip number four for this memory recorder. The machine has resurrected the previous three times and if a recovery is made this time then the machine will be known as "El Gato", for surely this thing has nine lives. One memory was saved, one was not.
This event takes some of the steam out of the drive. I leave the creek giving thanks.