The season is coming to an end here at Fish in a Barrel Pond. Four more weeks before I drain the water lines, close the cottages and take one of my legendary end-of-season naps but, in the meantime, the members of the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society are squeezing in as much time here as they can.
There are five weeks remaining in the season, here at Fish in a Barrel Pond, but summer is over. The leaves began turning early, the trees giving up on any hopes for rain and packing it in for the year. Strange sounds fill the nights as owls and coyotes prowl in the moonlight. The Pleiades are visible and I’m sure if I dragged my sorry butt out of bed at 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. I’d see Orion, too. The strings of geese passing overhead in the darkness surely do. Continue reading
[This is as good a time as any to note that there are six camps scattered along the shores of Fish in a Barrel Pond, each named after one legendary fly or another. They are, in no particular order, the Parmacheene Belle, Gray Ghost, Queen of the Waters, Cahill, Coachman and Mickey Finn (an acknowledging wink to the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society’s long tradition of fiery potations and mind-numbing concoctions). The names were chosen by a specially appointed committee charged with choosing from a list of suggestions submitted by the membership.
Certain members were against naming the camps when the issue came up for a vote, not so many years ago (one camp burned to the ground without a name, way back when — see “The Conflagration at Green Damselfly Cove”) and an attempt was made to turn the decision into one the membership would regret. If they had succeeded in stacking the committee in their favor I could very well have just introduced you to the Bitch Creek Nymph, Rat Face McDougal, Quack Doctor, Golden Monkey, Cow Dung and Ethel May.]
The sounds of the loon stir something primal, deep within all of us (see “Sadly Mistaken“), or at least they used to. More and more, as phone signals and broadband coverage improve, I see people mesmerized by the little boxes they carry, looking at each other and themselves but not what’s right in front of them or yakking away about things that, when you stop to really think about them, probably don’t merit a phone call in the first place and I am a bit concerned.
Never again do I want to hear a person say, “Can’t something be done to shut those birds up? I’m trying to talk here!”
I would, however, like very much to hear, again and again, “Quill, I dropped my phone off the dock. Can you fish it out for me?” because I would say “NO! Firstly, that ain’t fishin’ and lastly, I’m glad you dropped it. Might do you some good to be bored out of your frickin’ skull for a week, you spoiled little …” Continue reading
One hot August day, back before we knew computers could handle years beginning with “2”, Dr. Marcus Feely hooked the largest trout to ever come out of Fish in a Barrel Pond. The Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society had never hung a fish on its walls, choosing not to emphasize trophies, but Dr. Feely insisted. He even paid for the mounting himself and bought the impressive brass plaque that hangs beneath it, engraved with his name, the date and the names of four men listed as witnesses. Sooner or later, whether you want him to or not, Doc Feely will tell you all about that fish. Continue reading
Dr. Marcus Feely (not his real name) is a proctologist, not because of anything like a proud family tradition, but because I think it makes him more amusing. His patients appreciate his slender hands and his practice is well established. The success of “Doc Feely’s Love Rub,” his own line of personal lubrication products, has allowed him to become a man of leisure. His office is open five hours a day, three days a week, 40 weeks a year.
Dr. Feely, along with thousands of other men, took up fly fishing after seeing the movie, “A River Runs Through It” and has since amassed an impressive arsenal of extremely valuable rods, reels, gadgets, do-dads and geegaws. He has traveled the world, fishing for trophies in dozens of countries and he stays in only the finest lodges, hiring only the best, highest-priced guides. I know because he shows me the photos and tells me the stories every chance he gets. Continue reading
If I were to describe to you the absolute saddest thing I have ever heard it would break your heart and ruin your week. You’d mope around the house in your slippers and robe, the furnace and your pathetic sighs the only sounds in the house other than silence. Not even I know what describing it would do to me, especially at this point in winter with February still to go, but I can imagine and no one needs to see that. Continue reading
Certain aspects of fly fishing confound even those familiar with the sport and no one, especially the uninitiated, needs me mucking things up trying to explain them. A quick search of the internet will reveal plenty of sources to confuse you better than I ever could but there is one important concept that is pivotal to this tale – the waving of a rod, causing a length of line to go forward and back.
The forward part of the cast is generally not very dangerous except, indirectly, to the occasional fish. The backward portion, however, tends to be somewhat more problematic. Concentrating on what is in front of him, a fisherman will sometimes lose track of where his line and the sharp, pointy hook attached to it are going, often with unintended consequences.
Ron Hogan is such a fisherman and his sloppy back cast is chronic. Continue reading
There are a lot of links pointing to this post but stripping them out just seems too daunting a task and if I leave them in you’ll get one of those impersonal Error 404 Not Found notices, but the fact of the matter is that “The Buddy System” is no longer here. It has been taken down, given a good thrashing, and now exists in e-reader format, available for downloading to both Kindle and Nook devices.
Quill Gordon’s Story Time
Tales of the Outdoors for Anglers and Others
One Story, One Dollar
“The Buddy System”
It has been said that all fishermen are liars but when Jim Davis dies during a visit to Fish in a Barrel Pond his fishing buddies are forced to concoct a real whopper. Find out if they will be able to keep their own secret in this humorous short story of life at a fishing camp by Quill Gordon.
Click here for “The Buddy System” for Kindle (Amazon)
Click here for “The Buddy System” for Nook (Barnes & Noble)
A Somewhat Disjointed and Not Quite Complete Accounting of My Whereabouts for the Past Few Weeks
The transition from snowbound no-man’s land to lively, functioning, family fishing camp took place quickly this year at Fish in a Barrel Pond. It did not happen in the blink of an eye, or even overnight, but it happened fast, the rapid progress seeming even more so because of the tremendous amounts of ice and snow remaining at the beginning of the month. Small patches of ice remain, tucked up against the north sides of buildings, and snow can still be found in some shady, deep-wood recesses, but no other vestiges of winter are seen. Continue reading
This story has been taken down, dusted off, and given a good thrashing. There are just too many links scattered among these pages to go through, cleaning them all up, and I certainly don’t want to delete this title and have you run into one of those 404 Not Found notices.
As a result of the thrashing it received, The Conflagration at Green Damselfly Cove is now available in e-book form for both Kindle and Nook devices.
Quill Gordon’s Story Time
Tales of the Outdoors for Anglers and Others
One Story, One Dollar
The Conflagration at Green Damselfly Cove for Kindle (Amazon)
The Conflagration at Green Damselfly Cove for Nook (Barnes & Noble)
The View from Fish in a Barrel Pond 