Getting Buggy

fly fishing vacation bugs

By Goose

Bugs, bugs, bugs, we love scotch, wait I mean bugs.  The opening of the ranch, or as I call it the fly fishing ranch went pretty much as usual. Junior and I spent our best pre-season hours pulling last fall’s leafs out of the pond.  Now this may sound like a boring task, but to Isaac and me this is almost as much fun as fishing.  At any given time during that time you would have seen one of us digging though a pile of half decomposed leafs, with a big smile.  While new staff members looked at us like we had some serious issues, in our defense we are not crazy.  Ok that part is still open to debate. Whatever–bugs rule our world.  Why?  No bugs = no trout.  The amount of aquatic life in our little pond was overwhelmingly exciting.  Note to self; not everyone is excited to see a leach, and I next year I probably shouldn’t take them into the Great Room.

We found leaches by the pound, enough scuds to feed a small army, damsels, dragon flies, and several bugs yet to be identified. We did accomplish our ultimate goal.  Yes we have goals other than hooking bucket-loads of fish on the line (although that one is at the top of the list).  I had heard about a specific bug–a bug I had never seen.  And we found one, actually we found two.  So at this time I would like to announce the fly shops pet and new mascot King George.  George is a mammoth diving beetle, and he is cooler than a polar bear’s toe nails.  They are considered to have one of the most painful insect bites, and have been known to chew through aluminum cans.  They feed on snakes, frogs, fish, well anything that gets too close.  As mentioned earlier we had two, but King George got hungry.  Finding George went something like this, “We #%!@#&! found one!”  A nanosecond of a fishing guide victory dance, and then we began the domestication process.  We built him a habitat and started to work on basic commands like sit and stay, but he seems rather independent.  So, at this point, he just spends his idle time floating around in a jar, watching our anglers come and go throughout the day.  Because every fly shop needs a pet mammoth diving beetle, and now we have King George.

Well the sun is out, the birds are chirping, who am I trying to fool–we all know that I have other priorities than writing a blog for Steph.  The fish are eating I gotta go. Peace, love and bent rods.

Goose Out