I wish I were smarter and didn’t have to make so many mistakes, but it seems to be part of the learning curve.
One wise gentleman I knew believed the easiest way to smarten up quickly was to screw something up so badly that you did it correctly every time after.
He believed performing something half right tempted you to repeat the process, but really making a mess of things kept you from repeating the painful experience! I think he has a definite point.
I should have learned from my first experience with a very large brook trout in Allegany State Park when just 12. The slab sided brookie grabbed a salted minnow and bent my fly rod double. Uncle Phil, a little excited himself, kept yelling at me to get the fish in so he could net it. I hurried, horsed the trout and ripped the hooks from the heavy jaw. I became almost physically sick! That trout looked as big as a whale to me.
Ten minutes later I fortunately hooked another trout almost as big and fought him until he was tired; ignoring my Uncle entreaties to drag him in. I don’t believe he realized he was giving me bad advice; he just wanted me to catch that big brook trout so badly he over reacted.
That experience wasn’t quite painful enough though, the lesson not completely understood. A few years passed and I was fishing with Leo Hayes on the Kinzua Creek. It was mid-afternoon, the water cold and the sun bright. The fishing was slow and digging through my fishing vest discovered an old Minnie-Mirro Lure. This little beauty had caught many smallmouth bass for me so I tied it on my line.
At the top of a large hole I cast against the far bank and let the current sweep the lure in an arc across the rapidly deepening water. A terrific strike ripped my rod tip down, the drag started screaming. Staggering in the fast current, I struggled to keep my balance, fight the powerful trout and make my way to the shore. The big rainbow was flopping and thrashing wildly when, unexplainably, the trout stopped his struggles and swam docilely toward me.
My hands were shaking and I was suddenly seized with an overwhelming fear that this fish would somehow escape. He was huge! Yet, despite my panicked condition, a calmer part of my brain told me the fish still had plenty of fight and it would be dangerous to try and net it. Wait, I thought, wait until this fish is exhausted.
Well, I just ignored that little voice, leading that big trout right to shore, stretching out my arm as far as I could with my little trout net. The trout saw the net, thrashed wildly and in the confusion and my awkward position the rainbow snagged the hooks in the net and then snapped my line! Horrified the trout would escape, I leaped over him, landing parallel to the beach making a dam out of myself. Whew! That April water was icy cold!
Another fisherman saw my desperate situation and ran over to help me scooping the 23” rainbow out onto the beach. I would have kissed him if I hadn’t been half frozen and shaking from cold and excitement!
I never ever attempted to net a green fish after that. If the fish is well hooked, the only way to lose him is to panic and rush the fight. Relax and enjoy the battle, it’s much warmer as well.
Another mistake best avoided is losing your temper. One sunny day on the Allegany River I lost three big muskellunge in a row. I was young, upset, livid with disappointment and rapidly getting a migraine headache. My lure caught on a snag and I went a little berserk, jerking angrily and violently to free the lure.
Well, I ripped the flatfish free all right and it whizzed by me and buried itself in my dad’s leg! I had to watch him push the hooks through his skin before he could cut them free. I collapsed in the bottom of the canoe with a killer headache and my dad, bless his soul, and felt sorrier for me than himself!
The second week of deer season while still hunting across a large flat. I glanced to my left and saw a big doe take a step through a small opening. I stopped, sat down, put the sling strap on and readied myself to take a shot.
I waited and waited, staring intently through the forest, but the doe never appeared. After 15 minutes I began growing impatient. Had I really seen a deer after all or had it been an illusion. No, it must have been a deer, but where had she gone? I fidgeted and tried to remain composed, but it wasn’t long until I stood up.
Big mistake! The doe bolted and ran and behind her was a big, beautiful buck. I was sick, why couldn’t I have just sat there longer? Just a few more minutes, a little more patience and a trophy could have been mine.
I am very patient now and in the same situation would sit for an hour or more without moving. I get it!
So, fellow sportsmen, when you screw up, make a real mess of it. You never know when the next fish you have on or buck you see may be the biggest of your life. Then your earlier experiences will keep you from repeating that painful learning curve.
