'twas The Night Before Fishing

[Flyfisher78]

A poem by Dave Steele (a B.C. angler)

T’was the night before fishing and all through the house

The smell of my waders had peeved off my spouse

Leaders were tied some rigged and some bare

In hopes that sunrise soon would be there

Like the child I am I was snuggled in bed

I was starting to dream of adventures ahead

My consciousness lost to the quiet of night

As usual my wife had to turn out the light

When out on the corner there arouse such a clatter

I sat straight up in bed thinking what was the matter

I dashed to window caught a toe on a chair

The pain was so ugly I started to swear

When I got to the window what should appear

But Miki’s Ford diesel bogged down in first gear

I looked at my clock, my god I was late

Something taboo on a steel header’s date

My driver was grumpy he thought I was lame

He called me some things not one was my name

He whistled and shouted darn near woke up the block

All I could do was blame that darn clock

“Grab your raincoat -your vest- your rod and your reel

Get your license- your bait box your waders and creel”

From the top of the porch to the pick-up we tread

Hot coffee- hot coffee -hot coffee ahead

As two caffeine addicts with cravings to feed

It’s off to Tim Hortons two fishermen speed

With donuts and java and sugar and cream

My buddy and I set a course for the stream

The ride takes an hour, we discuss all the news

We solve the world’s problems while exchanging our views

We arrive at the river and to my dismay

In our regular spot there sits a red sleigh

Down by the river just within sight

Eight tiny reindeer rest from the night

And just to the left of where they have bed

A round jolly angler stands clothed all in red

He’s dressed all in Gortex most likely the best

His outfit complete with a steelhead vest

He cradled a Silex attached to a Sage

Fully aware it was all part of the rage

Why would he choose to fish at this time?

For a man with a choice it seemed like a crime

I asked sincerely, upfront and direct

Why is it this day you consider select?

He swung round to comment, a gleam in his eye

And through his white whiskers I heard this reply

“Presents to fishermen each year I deliver

My purpose is simple- keep them at home and away from the river”

“Give me a chance to fulfill my own wish

By reducing the pressure on the day that I fish”

With these simple words he flung out some roe

Into the run and at just the right flow

Seconds had passed when down went the float

The rod pulled back hard by the man in the coat

He played the bright steelhead with the style of a pro

He beached it - unhooked it - and then let it go

With a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face

He returned to his ride at a leisurely pace

With animals harnessed he sat in his sleigh

Looked over his shoulder and shouted our way

“ Next year at this time when my work is all done

I’ll meet you again on this very same run

It seems when I’m here the fish always bite

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good fight”

D.S.

[/Thanks, Dave]

James