It seems I have been pretty fortunate in finding success, whether it was fishing for striped bass along the beaches of Maine, tagging a good buck in either Vermont or New York, or getting to put a tag on a good tom turkey in May. Trout fishing? That is another story.
To be honest, I haven’t spent many opening days actually fishing. With the exception of the early 1980s, I spent a good two decades covering the opening day of the Vermont trout season for the Rutland Herald and The Times Argus. And it was good work.
Not that it mattered. I could never get fired up about trout and may set out for trout once every couple of years, after the cold days of April are past. I earned my fishing credentials at a young age, fishing for largemouth bass. But that is another story.
I can recall waking at just before dawn on opening day, throwing down a few cups of coffee and then heading south in the pickup, knowing I could find those serious trout anglers at the water’s edge, fishing with the enthusiasm of a 10-year-old boy who is thrilled just to be out there — no matter that the temperatures are in the upper 20s, there is 5 inches of snow on the ground, and the water is running high and swift.
This is because opening day, for most anglers, is not about the fish; it is about the tradition of being on the water, perhaps with a friend or two, and celebrating the coming of a new fishing season — today is opening day — on open water for the first time since last fall. Oh, there will be purists out there, some who will work the waters with a fly rod; others fishing in places, secret places, where fish came to them in early April in years past. These are the men and women who, through hard work and fish savvy, seem to come home with fish, every year, on opening day. They are the exception.
None of that matters to the “typical” anglers, the ones who will try to catch fish but will be just as happy to be out on the water. These anglers were out for more than trout — this was their first true day of spring, heralding the end of another long, dreary Vermont winter.
Whoever came up with the idea of holding the opening day of the trout season in the cold of early April must have been some kind of sadist. While thousands of anglers will wade streams, fish along the banks of rivers or cast from their boats, not that many trout will end up in the frying pan. Most of the time, opening day anglers are faced with a series of conditions that are far from conducive to catching trout — deep, cold, fast-running waters, all fueled by snow run-off and all of which make trout fishing all the more challenging.
But things might be very different this early season and the evidence can be seen on the dirt road where I live. For the first time in memory, we have not had a mud season to speak of. Oh, we have some big bumps here and there but the muck is not a part of the road. Last year, it was so difficult to travel on our little road that, one day, a woman, motoring up a short rise and going about 15 mph, suddenly found her car coming to a complete stop, mired in the mud and the deep ruts. She managed, somehow, to get the car going again.
But this spring, because of a prolonged drought and a lack of winter run-off, might very well be a big exception to the rule. A lack of melting snow will mean rivers and streams will run significantly lower than normal, making it considerably easier for fishermen to get their bait or lures down deep, where lethargic, winter-weary trout will be waiting.
But just like the opening day of the heralded buck season, weather conditions will be the biggest factor when it comes to how many will actually get out on the water. A constant rain or even snow showers will keep some anglers home. The weather forecast is calling for dry, warm weather so angler participation should be very good.
With those prospects in mind, maybe I’ll take out the short trout rod, collecting dust in the basement, and set out to take part in the opener — with worms, of course. I’ll have to set the alarm clock and be up no later than sunrise. I can hear that alarm going off and then turning over, just to get a little more shuteye. Then, maybe an hour later, I’ll glance over at the clock and decide, oh, what the hell, maybe next year.
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