Tweet this

February 29, 2012 By 2 Comments

Recently I’ve been inundated by a wave of new followers on Twitter—a collection of pathetic, lonely, fly fishing persons with too much free time on their hands. Apparently there are unwritten Twitter rules of etiquette that suggest when someone follows you, you’re expected to send these people a message thanking them for their allegiance.

Let’s get something straight:  I do not thank people for following me.

If you follow the Hawg-Brown, it’s your choice. You should thank me.

Emotion is a weakness. Even if were capable of showing emotion, I would not.

So, follow me if you must—but do not expect a show of gratitude. No frilly little love letters laced with smiley faces, no participant ribbons. No, “looking forward to your tweets!” because I am not.

 

My name is Roderick Hawg-Brown, and I speak the truth

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Fly fishing bloggermen are weak

February 13, 2012 By 6 Comments

I was recently bored out of my mind and found my way to a blog I didn’t know previously existed. There are so many blogs, and so little time. And admittedly my internet connection is spotty at best. In all actuality I’m lucky if I can get my laptop to work at all without shorting out. I should really look into a waterproof housing for it, but then again electro-shocking the water on occasion does produce some easy meals.

But back to the blog in question, which is titled simply, alexkain. First off, I find it a bit pompous for a blogger to name their blog after themselves. I suppose if you’ve a high enough opinion of yourself or you’re famous, it’s not such an unreasonable thing to do. But Alex Kain?  Never heard of him. At least not previously.

A particular entry took a jab at the myriad fly fishing blogs polluting the internet. This Kain fellow starts off gently by stating:

I have to be honest, I haven’t been reading your blog.

I haven’t been reading yours either, Alex Kain.

He goes on to complain that 99% of the fly fishing blogs are boring and lacking an edge. He accuses people of essentially tiptoeing the path most traveled rather than taking a risk. He doesn’t use these exact terms, but he’s calling for you fly fishing bloggers to run with scissors. Pointed inward, perhaps.

But I must say, as much as I don’t agree with anything fly fishingmen say, this Alex Kain character may almost be a man I might respect, if not for the fact that I’m incapable of respecting any man. He appears to be a speaker of the truth and has undoubtedly rubbed a few fly fishing bloggermen the wrong way. Without knowing this Alex Kain fly fishing bloggerman, my first perception is that he’s abrasive and outspoken: two things that probably make him a man of few friends. Likely he fishes alone, or perhaps with weak-minded “yes-men” who carry his net for him. Abrasive and outspoken—I see nothing wrong with that, having been referred to similarly.

After reading his entry I left my comment:

Then someone named Alex (assuming it was Alex Kain) replied:

At this point I horked up a chunk of nutria and took my leave.  I was not looking for anyone to agree with me. I certainly don’t want meaningless praise from any man. In his reply he should have taken a shot at me. He should have defended his territory by declaring me a braggart and calling me out for a duel in mid-riffle. I would have returned an insult and accepted the challenge. Instead I was left feeling rather empty. I’ve been referred to as a “fat, finned bastard” on my own blog—surely I should have been offered something similar in this instance where I was just a visitor. I was disappointed in his lack of gumption. Disappointed, but not surprised. After all that it turns out he may just be just one of those boring, overcooked, gritless fly fishing bloggermans. Sort of like hatchery fish.

I am Roderick Hawg-Brown, and I speak the truth.

 

 

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Winter loathing under the cut bank

February 9, 2012 By 4 Comments

I detest winter. Sure, the frigid water temperatures slow my metabolism to a crawl and I am fairly well able maintain my bulk without having to chase food. But after a couple of months the shacknasties set in. I long for a little game of cat and mouse (I’m not picky and will eat either, though I prefer the cat due to their larger size). Both are scarce this time of year.

From time to time I’ll make the rounds just to see what’s happening in the neighborhood. Not much this time of year. If I’m really bored I’ll harvest spent end-tackle (my lair is lavishly decorated with Thingamabobbers in every size and color). Assorted stonefly nymphs can be seen crawling about—skwalas are on the brink of hatching, and while that excites fly fishermen, I’m not a bug eater. I need meat: warm-blooded, furred or feathered meat. Unfortunately ducks have flown south for the winter, and people seldom bring their ornamental terriers to the river for a playful swim in the middle of winter. The occasional muskrat or nutria will make the mistake of nosing under my cut bank from time to time, or I’ll break through the ice to ruin a playful otter’s day. So, I get by. But food isn’t my foremost concern.

There’s something else missing.

For most of the winter months I’m content to catch up on my reading. I got through Gierach’s latest book, No Shortage of Good Days. That Bob White guy who drew the cover is pretty good, but to be honest I feel like I’ve read it all before–will the man never retire? I just finished River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt’s Darkest Journey. He may have been President but he was a fool, though I will give him credit–he had bigger cajones than any man alive today. I also recently finished An Entirely Synthetic Fish. It explains a lot. Rainbow trout, MEH. Frankly, I’ve grown weary of reading.

I’ll admit, I’m starting to feel the twangs of melancholy setting in. I look forward to the warmer days of Spring, but damn that Punxsutawney Phil for declaring 6 more weeks of winter. Who died and made him meteorologist, anyway? Bring that ground squirrel to see me and he’ll not see his shadow again.

A lot of you fly fishermen have been making the rounds to fly fishing shows and outdoor expos recently. You’ve spent ridiculous amounts of money on new rods, reels and lines. After you get back from your nancy-boy trips to the Bahamas the weather will have warmed a good bit. Don’t let a little residual snow on the river bank deter you. Those chicken streamers you’ve been tying over the winter?  Fill a fly box with them–all of them– and come see me.

I’m tired of winter.

I want some amusement.

 

 

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