Nobody’s gonna make you quit. You’re not gonna try to quit on your own. You’ve got ’way too much time and cash invested to turn back. You’re even kinda proud to be called down on it.... You just might be a troutbum.

Oh, yeah, you’ll dredge out a popper or a streamer and hit a piece of warm water, and you’ll catch a few bass, or bream, or crappie, and you might go off to some exotic place and pretend that you just love to cast an eight or ten weight rod for Bermuda Carp (oh, sorry, they call them bonefish) but after the fun is over, you need a trout fix.

Yep. You’re gettin’ a little defensive even now, aren’t you? You just might be a trout bum.

It’s not the worst thing you could have acquired as a habit. There’s collecting goofy looking cars, hanging photos of Judy Garland in every room of the house, going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show every Friday at midnight. There’s pouring time and money into a boat, into bird dogs, into shotguns, into horses. All time and money consuming things. You could have decided you’d buy a Corvette and find pooh-haired fluffy named Lacey, spelled Layci, to ride around in it with you. If you’re a lady, you could have decided the best thing you could do was to keep scheduling cosmetic surgery until you finally acquired that look of perpetual surprise like some of the women in the pages of “In Style”. Or you could have taken up tennis, so you could have the tan and the little outfit, and the cute tennis instructor.....But NOOOOO, you chose to be a trout bum.

It’s OK, there’s no shame involved, and while it’s not curable, it’s manageable, up to a point.

If the waders fit, wear ‘em. Here’s a few ways to tell:

If you have at least one fly rod in your car at all times....

If you admit to having one rod in the car, but you actually have three in there, because you never know which one you might need....

If you have two or more fishing magazines in the bathroom....

If you’ve ever told someone a good spot to go fishing, with out actually divulging YOUR spot....

If you check out every body of water that might possibly hold trout, even if it means holding up traffic on the highway....

If you get the shakes because you haven’t fished for six days....

If you’ve ever been caught in a generation, because you just knew a fish you’ve named “big Daddy” was ready to strike....

If you’ve ever set a hook in your sleep, and woke yourself up doing it....

If you’ve ever combed dubbing off the family dog....

If you’ve ever combed dubbing off someone else’s dog....

If you’ve ever slowed down to see if there was anything usable on a road kill....

If you get defensive when your non-fishing friends ask how many rods/reels/flies/vests/etc. you really need....

If you get vague when your significant other asks how long you’re planning to fish on any given day....

If you go get your own coffee at the fly shop....

If you have your own chair at the fly shop....

If your vehicle smells like damp waders at any given time....

If you’ve ever tried to verbally coax a trout to take your fly....

If walking by the trout tank at an aquarium makes you groan audibly....

If you have more than one special fishing shirt....

If you’ve ever missed a family reunion, wedding, school play, party, or any other function because the fish were rising and you just couldn’t leave....

If you’ve ever been annoyed at a non-trout for taking your fly because it took up extra time to land it and get your fly back....

If you’ve ever trashed the knees of your waders, crawling up to a pool to get in the one cast you’re gonna get there....

If Sage isn’t a spice, Winston isn’t a cigarette, Orvis isn‘t a pet shampoo, St Croix isn’t a saint, Scott isn’t an F. Fitzgerald, Payne doesn’t hurt, Wulff doesn’t howl, Ross isn’t a Betsy, Pate doesn‘t go on crackers, a two piece isn’t a swimsuit, a three piece isn’t a business suit, a 4, a 5, a 6, a 7, an 8 or a 9 aren’t golf clubs, and Lefty is not a pitcher....

And finally, if you’re reading this and saying, “Oh Yeah? What’s wrong that? “.....

You Just Might Be A Trout Bum

Juni ReadHead Fisher