I'm a damnation, in Hunting Stories

I didn't do the table seating selection. I just paid my money late last fall, walked in the door last night, looked for my name tag and sat down. I went to a trout banquet, where they didn't serve trout. Within minutes, I could tell I was at the wrong table.

The guy who took my money last summer while I was hiking off a trout stream didn't recall meeting me, but was glad to see me at this year's festivities none the less. I thought to myself, I think if this ever happens again, I need to do more research before I pay my annual, in advance, dues.

These guys and gals were technically proficient at talking bugs, and I'm not, I think in short order that bugged them no end. I just wanted to talk about trout and trout fishing. I learned quickly, it was safer to listen than talk.

They asked if I owned any flies, what kind of rods I used, and where did I acquire my fly fishing vest. My fishing vest has an aroma I didn't think I'd bring up around there dinner table, as for my rods I know the names but there not as famous as the ones being touted, so I dug into my fly boxes.

I have more fly boxes than I can count. I have them because I know little, or next to nothing about stream side entomology. I like to think instead of learning about water born bugs, because I don't like bugs, I just buy everybody's fakes and I'm set to go.
So with all the flies, dry's, streamers, wets, emergers and so on, nymphs, droppers and the like, I was asked last evening, how could I possibly make an intelligent selection and hope to catch a trout.

I said I look at spider webs, whatever's in the web that day, I tie it on the end of the fat line and hope it works, if it doesn't, after a while, I change to what I think looks good to me.

I got some gaffaws, some harrumphs and I thought I'd better change the subject quick, so I asked if anybody had a favorite recipe for grilled trout. When I asked that question, faces looking back at me went from shock to mad, it was like I stuck a fork in the hand that was to feed me.

You know what; these folks don't eat trout, that's a "damnation" as far as they were concerned. Did I realize that if I ate a trout, nobody would ever be able to catch and release that fish again? I asked to be excused; I made a beeline for the men's room, then I took a left at the coat rack and got out the door without even eating my salad. The trout whisperer