Aww. “With a face only a mother could love.”
For many fishermen, suckers aren’t something that you purposely go out and target. Especially not on a river that’s famous for big, wild, brown trout. But not too long ago on the Delaware river, that’s exactly what happened. We had made the drive from our place to the Catskills with all the usual ‘trout fishing’ intentions you would expect to find in a truck loaded down with gear. Two of us day dreaming about huge trout spooling line off of our screaming reels as we sorted our fly boxes the night before.
Then again, as proves to be true with many last minute decisions which cause you to arrive late in a popular fishing hole, we were far from alone. Combat fishing. There were guys hiding in the bushes waiting for risers, others giving us the death stare just for existing, So we stood there. We stood there with blank looks on our faces, finishing up a half eaten bag of Doritos and making an unenthusiastic attempt on deciding where to go now. Upriver or not, to avoid the now growing crowd of spectators who were eyeballing us in the chance we left so they could move on in.
Without a thought in my head aside from wondering what kind of moron wears flip flops when I know damn well there are plenty of spiders running full speed over these rocks. ::Puke:: As I glanced upwards and out of the corner of my eye, about to make a comment, I caught a glimpse of the dark shadows moving in the pool at the bottom of the riffle.
“What the hell are those..”
Suckers.
They were suckers. Hovering over the river bed like fat little manatees.
And just like that, I forgot we were there for trout.
