Private Sessions

When obsessed with fly fishing it sometimes happens the addict cannot get to his needs. As most fly fishermen he needs to provide. But not only the food provision is in hands of the modern day fly fisherman. He also has to think about the rent, the payment of his car. The credit card his beloved wife can use for shopping and of course the huge investments in gear to practice that hobby. Not even considering the trips he has on a secret wish list.

Anyway, as a veterinarian I sometimes just don’t have enough time for fishing. At least no substantial time. And on some of those working days I just notice my hands are trembling. My body feels weird. The mind wanders off and when euthanizing the beloved special chicken of some decadent, wealthy citizen, who grew so far away from nature he cannot turn around a neck himself, I don’t think about what I will be putting on the personal handwritten condolence card he’ll get from me. Hell no, the only thing I wonder is if he will leave the animal here for destruction or take it back home to bury. ‘Cause man, that chicken has some pretty good streamer hackles around the neck and if it will end up in our fridge (awaiting the destruction company to come and pick it up)……could there be an option of harvesting some of those feathers and give them a second life?

It was one of those days. The coffee didn’t relieve the stress anymore and as soon as I closed up the last sutures of the operation program I turned to the next room to see if my colleague (dr. J.) had already finished pulling teeth of that 14yr old bad mouth breath cat. He’s a fly fisherman too.

And finished he was. We just looked at each other’s fatigued faces and we knew it was time. It was half October, and at that time of the year we don’t get that many lunch breaks with fishable time off anymore. So I got out to the car and soon J. threw his rod in the trunk too. Nice fellow as he is, he brought some croissants for lunch and in the car we discussed which spot would be nice for a 30 minute fish and run. It’s a city full of small but good fishing spots and, although it took us quite some time to get to know the right places, now we know exactly where to go.

I think it was on the second cast when my streamer landed just underneath the three where I wanted it to land and I stripped it back into the open. An awesome hit and loose again, not even a chance to strike. As the water was a bit murky I was not sure whether the fish was only following (as they do sometimes) or turned away as he realized we tried to fool him/her. So the safest bet was to continue stripping and right in front of me there was the attack from the back. It came from down underneath and struck hard, giving me enough time to strip-strike and set. I got it to shore rather quickly, about 80cm’s of pike. Nice fish! And as I wanted to grab my camera to let J. take some shots for my future offspring and maybe to share with other fanatics, nothing was there.

Shit! Forgot about the damn thing, still in my other vest, eagerly waiting for me to go on another trout trip I guess. Why don’t cameras, licenses, unhooking tools and other handy materials transfer automatically when I take out my other vest? Mobile phone? Nah, that costs too much time and pics are not worth keeping such a nice fish ashore. So I release the fish.

J. goes along, taking the left side of the spots, I take the right. I spot a nice drain hole connecting the canal on the left to the one I am fishing in. Drain pipes are nice places and I cast my streamer right in front of it. At the first move of the streamer there is an awesome swirl, water splashes and a big momma charges the streamer like she hasn’t been eating all summer. I take charge and feel her yanking on the line. A very hard strip-strike is the correct answer and she’s on. I yell to my buddy, thinking about the cell phone….but then I suddenly remember my lovely girlfriend left her SLR camera in my car this morning. “Go get the camera! This could be a meter!” I think it’s more of a command then a question. I throw my car keys to J. and he runs off. Meanwhile I manage to get the fish close to shore. It doesn’t take me much time to lie down next to the water and slip my fingers behind the pike’s gill plate, turning to a save gill-to-jaw-grip and pulling it out. That’s a heavy beauty!

J. is back form the car, we admire the fish and he shoots some pics. As we measure it the estimation of a meter is just a centimeter inaccurate. Yeah baby! The first big one of the season is in!

Then we realize we have to hurry to get back in time for the consultation hour. As I call in the next patient the cat just loves the smell on my hands and can’t stop licking them. Even when I take a blood sample the cat keeps purring. The owners look very pleased their pet likes the veterinarian that much. The sample is drawn with a very stable (as in non shaking) and smelly hand ;-)

Sander