Monday, July 11, 2016

Blooding

Got a few on the hook. The stair-step of happy campers in the accompanying photo are initiates. They’ve learned to tie a blood knot; handle & cast spinning gear; they have handled fly tackle, which they used to troll flies at the pond; they are learning how to tie flies; & they learned how to cut & prepare trout for the frying pan.

Tomorrow we will cast the fly rods, on the lawn.

They are excited & looking forward to having those trout aligned on the net handle as their camp supper. They are ready for ‘blooding’ – a right-of-passage, of sorts. I have explained some conservation & the concept of catch & release, & the initiates understand. They are gentle souls. But they wanted to clean & cook a few also, & I agreed to let them kill a few trout for the table. That is blooding.

At base, ours is still a blood sport, evolved from the necessary food-gathering habits of our ancestors. Keeping that in mind, I think, helps the angler to stay sharp. Eating one now & then will keep you fishy.

The initiates are fishy now. They have engaged full-circle in the ancient rite. I’ve no doubt that all three will always fish. They love it. And if they ever have to catch a fish, by necessity, they will know how to do so.          


3 comments:

  1. You know that is a really great post. Kind of where it began for all of us........... Rite of passage is then transferred by passing it along to future generations. I am looking forward to fishing with my Grandson. He is 17..... All of a sudden, he wants to go fishing and catch a fish. Novel idea... Thanks for sharing. Also, added your blog to my blogroll over at http://flyfishintimes.blogspot.com

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  2. Now, that's a butcher's crew! Nice job getting some slime on this trio. Nothing like a little taste to sink in those memories. I can remember slab bluegill from a farm pond fried crusty. In memory, they taste sweet and crispy as fried pie crust.

    Nice job! Great snap, too.

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  3. Grandpa Mel, Grandpa Spike: fishing with kids will make you twelve again, & that is a perfect age. Fish like you're twelve.

    Your compatriot, Grandpa Steve.

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