An Angler’s Greatest Skill

Photo by Spencer Durrant.

What’s the most important skill a fly angler can posses?

If you asked a dozen anglers this question, how many different answers would you get?

A lot would probably say casting, followed by fly presentation. And while those skills are vital, I think the most important one is often overlooked: your ability to quickly and safely release trout.

With the recent release of a new study that says fish are more susceptible to adverse effects from warming water than we previously thought, this idea has been on my mind. Add to that the heat wave we’re dealing with here in Wyoming (it’s been over 100F three days in a row here, which is rare for the high plains), and I’ve had a lot of reason to reflect on my own fish handling skills.

A few nights ago I went out for an evening session on the local creek, higher up in the mountains where I knew the water would be cold enough. Bug were hatching, fish were rising, and within a few minutes I hooked into the largest trout I’ve ever caught from that section of the creek. As I stared at the 12-ish inch rainbow in my net, I noticed the blood pouring from its gills. The fish had swallowed my caddis deep, and even though the hook was barbless, it still did significant damage.

The fish flopped in my net and the caddis popped free. I set my rod down, then gently grabbed the trout, holding it in the soft water near the creek bank. Its gills pumped furiously, blood still seeping through my fingers. The fish kicked and shot off upstream, descending to the bottom of the pool.

I have no idea if that fish survived. I hope it did, and I feel a twinge of guilt about it, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. That fish only left the water briefly when I moved it out of the net and back into the creek. It’s an unfortunate fact that, even with the best fish handling practices, a percentage of caught-and-released trout will die.

One dead trout isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, especially in a creek full to bursting with wild rainbows. But as I’ve gotten older, the loss of any critter stings a bit more. Last fall’s deer was a tough harvest. It stood, giant ears cocked, wide eyes staring straight at me, as innocent as could be, before I pulled the trigger.

I understand the circle of life. I’ve seen Lion King. I know I need the meat in the freezer. That doesn’t make it any easier.

Now, you could accuse me of being dramatic, and that’d be fair. But part of our job as fly anglers is taking care of the resource. That means quickly and safely releasing trout, especially when they’re at their most vulnerable. All your prowess at hooking fish on dry flies, or technical nymphing, doesn’t matter if you’re unable to take care of the trout you catch.