Yesterday was the last day with this fine bunch of future RN's whom I've had the pleasure of teaching since September. It's time to switch clinical groups so next week I'll get a new, to me, group of students. It's great to see these students grind and grow. We've been from a long term care facility to a vent floor, med/surg floor, operating room, emergency department, and anything else we can go to to expand their nursing school experience. And I now see when they switch, it's time to fish.
I've been kind of predicting, don't we all do that, what will happen with the air and water temps and I was spot on that we'd see a drop into the high 30's come March 1st, and be on our way to the 50 mark on St. Patrick's Day which is 10 days away. On my way home last night I got a call from Delaware Joe who got me all riled up about fishing. "River looked great today", "Water was beautiful"....."I bet something's there"....great. I'm tired from a long-ass day at work and can't wait to get home, pour myself a Guinness, and go to bed. Plus, it's way too early. So a glance at the river temps.....43 degrees. I then
thought back to the above thing I found online a few years back, "...striped bass begin actively feeding around 42 degrees....". So I tried to talk myself out of it. Why would I go? The river has dropped like a
stone over the last day or so whiuch is nice. Fish, especially ones heading farther north have to pass by, and they say most of the really big fish go through undetected because they are early March fish. But I knew me not going was cemented by the warm and fuzzy feeling I got as I kept upping the numbers on our heated blanket.....12,13,14 and 15. I'll be as snug as a bug in a rug in about 15 minutes. I gave a quick check, "Ha, high tide at 245 am.....later", and closed my eyes. But then I started thinking, "Make reports don't wait for them", "Maybe they are there", "Maybe Joe's call was a sign"......Goodnight.
So I woke up wide awake at 3am. Looked outside and saw the snow coming down in the streetlights. I turned at looked at my wife who was unconscious. Over to the dogs and they were both staring at me, which is kinda creepy. Alright, feck it, as they say in Ireland, I'll go. And I did, and I'm glad I did. A check of the cool weather with the N wind at 7 came in at 33 degrees. I hate the cold and my fingers do
as well. I fished for 45 minutes, which is probably about 75 casts, without a tap. I felt confident that I covered my section of the stream well and if there was something on the move and ready to snack I was in the right place. The good thing, always, about going, and not thinking about going, is then you know, for good or bad, no questions asked. And I learn something every-time you go.
So I tried to quietly open the door to sneak back in at 4 am hoping to slide back in under the warm covers of my bed without waking up the wife. And don't you know it when I opened the door there were both of the dogs sitting there staring at me. My dogs always stare at me, usually both at the same time. It was the staring dog with a cryptic message that drove David "Son of Sam" Berkowitz to kill 8 women and men in 1976 and 1977, a theory that was debunked over time. When my dogs stare at me I hear a different message, time to eat, time to go outside, time to fish...