I'm a fly fisherman. At least that's what I tell people. That's easier than explaining that really I fish with a fly rod, travel thousands of miles in pursuit of fish that often would fit nicely in a small aquarium and occasionally find one that's stupid, blind and hungry enough to swallow whatever fly that I manage to accidentally get into the water within reach. See, it's easier to say that I'm a fly fisherman...but now you know the truth. My obsession with trout, albeit mild compared to some, is getting worse. I'm even giving up several days of bowhunting time to travel to Oklahoma to see if those stories about big rainbows, and brownies are true. It seems a little unlikely considering that Broken Bow Oklahoma is only 150 miles from the Metroplex but if there are trout within 5 hours drive time I'll take a chance. Those who have never been to Southeastern Oklahoma would no doubt be surprised at just how beautiful it its. Incredible pine forests, Mountains (big hills)and Colorado(ish) streams are so close to the Texas border you could leave now and be there by dark...or as we said in the good old days...about a six pack from here. (soft drinks)
Just like a real fly fisherman I decided to practice casting to prepare for this trip to Oklahoma. Unlike a real flyfisherman I figured 30 minutes in my front yard would suffice. I just got my rod back from being rebuilt so I was anxious to give it a try. In hindsight I probably should have chosen a piece of yarn or a tiny split shot weight to use for casting rather than an old panfish fly...but again I was anxious to start casting. What I had underestimated was the allure a panfish fly has on stray cats who often spend their day hiding in the bushes beside our house. I was working on my rolling cast, which looks more like a badly lopsided wagon wheel rolling down a bumpy road than the shimmering loops of perfection that I picture in my mind. I somehow managed to lay the tiny fly just at the edge of the Japanese Boxwood favored by a large old black tom cat that my children named Nintendo. We've been meaning to take Nintendo to have his tomcathood removed for years but somehow he's always eluded our traps, and over the years there's been an endless line of Nintendo Jr's. Every cat has his day, and this was not Nintendo's. Just as I was beginning my uphaul to start my backcast, I saw a black flash coming out of the boxwood in the direction of the fly. The only time I've seen Nintendo move that fast was when we put out cat food or animal control rounded the corner. I was shocked to see the old boy in high gear. Even more shocked to see that fly lodge perfectly in the corner of his mouth. Setting the hook was more instinct than anything.. Fish On! Once that cat figured out he was hooked he took off like a rocket trying to make the corner of the house. Out of habit I leaned the road to the left and put on the pressure. I honestly had no clue as to what to do but I wasn't going let this cat break my road or take off into the woods dragging a hundred yards of fly line behind him. The poor cat let out a howl and rolled into a ball of slashing claws at the end of the line in an attempt to dislodged what looked like such a tasty morsel just seconds before. Now what? I wondered, just as my neighbor stepped out onto his front porch. This was going to be tough to explain. I sheepishly made eye contact just as the mad ball of fur took off to his right my left. The drag was screaming and my rod was bent at an impossible angle. "Don't horse him...shouted my neighbor...keep the pressure on...if he makes it to the trees your in trouble." Wow, I thought...he gets it. " I landed a 12 pound Cocker Spaniel one time on 8 pound test using a Jitterbug" . Took me 30 minutes." Wow, I thought...he thinks I did this on purpose. Before I could explain that this was a terrible accident he said. "Hey. I'll get a net!" The cat was still making runs but I had actually managed to reel in some line. What I was going to do if I did get him landed I still had no clue...so the net seemed like a good idea. As my neighbor moved in with the net, the cat scrambled to his feet and made one last valiant effort to make it to the woods. Rather than going up the first tree he came to he ran around it ,and then headed straight back at me. The line pulled tight and the cat ended up doing a quick circle around the tree. Tangled in the line and completely out of gas, Ninetendo lay in a pitiful heap at the base of the tree. Getting him into the net from that point was actually easy. Getting the hook out wasn't much trouble either since I was actually going barbless. By the time I got the dog crate and the gloves out he had regained some of his strength and made a have hearted attempt to remove my arm as I shoved him inside. By the time I got him to the vet he was emitting a deathly growl that seemed to curse me and many future generations. As I drove away I thought of the wise words of Bob Barker, " help control the pet population, have your pet spayed or neutered." I don't think this is what he had in mind.