The books all say that barracuda rarely eat people, but very few barracuda can read.
We suggest that in the next decades fisheries management will have to emphasize the rebuilding of fish populations embedded within functional food webs, within large 'no-take' marine protected areas.
They used to have a fish on the menu that was smoked, grilled and peppered They did everything to this fish but pistol-whip it and dress it in Bermuda shorts.
All the charm of the angler's life would be lost but for these hours of thought and memory. All along the brook, all day on lake or river, while he takes his sport, he thinks. All the long evenings in camp, or cottage, or inn, he tells stories of his own life, hears stories of his friend's lives, and if alone calls up the magic of memory.
It is well known that no person who regards his reputation will ever kill a trout with anything but a fly. It requires some training on the part of the trout to take to this method. The uncultivated, unsophisticated trout in unfrequented waters prefers the bait; and the rural people, whose sole object in going a-fishing appears to be to catch fish, indulge them in their primitive taste for the worm. No sportsman however, will use anything but the fly, except when he happens to be alone.
What pretty bright trout there are in this bold rock creek! It would full be called a river in England, and so it is!
Ah me son, we don't be takin' nothin' from the sea. We has to sneak up on what we wants and wiggle it away
If ever there was a fish made to endure, it is the Atlantic cod... But it has among its predators - man, an openmouthed species greedier than cod.
Aquatic animals suffer from the disadvantage that they cannot scream when in pain, so we find it hard to gauge the degree of their agony. If fish could scream, angling purely for sport would be outlawed without delay.
Don't talk anybody, don't come near! Can't you see the fish might hear? He thinks I'm playing with a piece of string; He thinks I'm another sort of funny thing, But he doesn't know I'm fishing - He doesn't know I'm fishing. That's what I'm doing - Fishing.
A feller's glad to be a friend, Out fishin'. A helpin' hand he'll always lend, Out fishin' The brotherhood of rod and line An' sky an' stream is always fine; Men come real close to God's design, Out fishin'. A feller isn't plotting schemes, Out fishin'. He's only busy with his dreams, Out fishin' His livery is a coat of tan; His creed, to do the best he can; A feller's always mostly man Out fishin'.
Successful trout fishing isn't a matter of brute force or even persistence, but something more like infiltration.
Perhaps the time has come to formulate a moral code which would govern our relations with the great creatures of the sea as well as with those on dry land. That this will come to pass is my dear wish.
If little fish get eaten by bigger fish, and bigger fish get eaten by bigger fish... what happens when there are no little fish? The world's populations of little fish are being harvested to make catfood!? This nonsense has to stop. Feed a fish a cat a day!
God quickened in the Sea and in the Rivers, So many fishes of so many features, That in the waters we may see all Creatures; Even all that on the earth is to be found,! As if the world were in deep waters drowned.
An excellent angler, and now with God.
...But some of the ideas are ridiculous. Such as matching the hatch. Of course there are times when you have a fly as alike as possible to the flies on the water. But casting and accuracy and how you present your fly and how fast it gets there and how fast it swims are all more important than matching the hatch.
A sly old fish, too cunning for the hook.
Angling is an amusement peculiarly adapted to the mild and cultivated scenery of England
As soon as you think of fishing you think of things that don't belong to the modern world. The very idea of sitting all day under a willow tree beside a quiet pool - and being able to find a quiet pool to sit beside- belongs to a time before the war, before radio, before aeroplanes, before Hitler.
From high Meonia's rocky shores I came, Of poor decsent, Acoetes is my name, My sire was measly born: no oxen ploughed, His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures lowed, His whole estate within the waters lay' With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey; His art was all his livelehood, which he Thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me: In streams, my boy, and rivers take thy chance; There swims', said he, Thy whole inheritance.
Fishing, if I a fisher may protest, Of pleasures is the sweetest of sports the best, Of exercises the most excellent, Of recreations the most innocent. But now the sport is marred, and why you ask? Fishes decrease, and fishers multiply.
It must be observed that fishing with any living bait is to be condemned for the same reason as fishing with a worm: in all such instances we torture two animals at once for our amusement.
In the name of sense, man, if God made fish to be eaten, what difference does it make if I enjoy the killing of them before I eat them? You would have none but a fisherman by trade do it, and then you would have him utter a sigh, a prayer, and a pious ejaculation at each cod or haddock that he killed.
Yet compared with the serious things of life, fishing is after all rather trivial. The thoughtful angler must frankly confess this.
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