Those of us who enjoy the outdoors can get away from this real world that seems to be going to heck in a handbasket. No matter if you are sitting in a tree stand or on a beach chair, standing in a trout stream or walking through a cornfield, your mind is not on the Middle East, the current state of U.S. politics or even how the kids are doing in school. You are concentrating on the task at hand. Was that a deer or a squirrel? Did I get the right bait? That’s the third time that trout has rejected my fly, and what a beautiful point. All of these become the most important things on your mind.
I believe that is why we feel so good at the end of a day spent fishing or hunting. I can get up at 3:30 a.m., drive to Ocean City, Md., fish all day, drive home and still have trouble getting to sleep because I am reliving my day on the water. This is true even if I am just going along on a boat in the White Marlin Open and never touch a rod.
I recently caught up with a friend from 30 years ago when we hunted together on Snow Farm. We relieved those hunts like they were yesterday. I am sure the other folks at Cracker Barrel enjoyed the stories too.
Another thing about hunting and fishing ... seldom, if ever, do arguments arise about politics. What fish fights hardest, what type of tackle is best for certain fishing situations, what caliber is best for deer, or who makes the best boat or motor, sure. Those are more discussions than arguments, and to each is own is the usual outcome.
When you consider that all hunters are armed, I only know of one instance where one shot another on purpose. The shooter found a trespasser in his stand on private property. The trespasser refused to leave, so the property owner shot him out of the stand. I don’t think he had him mounted.
When it comes to surf-fishing, I am a loner. I like to go up on the beach at first light and fish until 10 a.m. or so, and then go back for the evening until dark. I don’t fish tournaments, and I don’t like elbow-to-elbow fishing like they have at Cape Hatteras during a bluefish or drum bite at the Point. I have been there, and I don’t plan to return.
When it comes to hunting, I am just the opposite. I want to know everybody in the woods and where they are at all times. I stay in my stand and expect everyone else to stay in theirs until the afternoon drive.
Hunting at Snow Farm was always great because the six of us in the pit could enjoy each other’s company while waiting for the geese to fly over. Whoever was in the far right corner had the call and would watch the birds come in. When they were in the decoys, he would holler, “Take ‘em, boys,” and the world would explode with 12-gauge reports.
Fly fishing is the quiet sport. No one would confuse me with a fly fisherman, but I have caught fish on a fly in both fresh and salt water.
One of the most enjoyable experiences was fishing out of Maryland with a group of Maryland outdoor writers, including Lefty Kreah. This was back in the day when big blues ruled the Chesapeake, and we were chumming with menhaden chunks. Lefty had these flies that were big and white – the blues loved them. Playing a 10-pound bluefish on a fly rod is definitely an exciting experience.
A quieter experience is fishing the Connetquot in Long Island, N.Y. This is a fly-fishing-only stream that is stocked by the state and holds lots of trout.
A writers group I belonged to fished there once a year on a Monday when the steam was closed to the public. I caught plenty of rainbows and brook trout. On one occasion, as I was reeling in a small rainbow, a very large brown trout came out from under the bridge I was standing on and tried to eat my fish.
It was easy to find a secluded place and stand there catching a trout on every cast. The exciting sea-run rainbows would tear upstream and jump high, and when you cleaned them, their flesh was pink like a salmon. Yes, it was times like those when I could see how fly fishing could be addictive.
I have been laid up for the past few months with a bum shoulder that is supposed to get fixed Dec. 6. Too much CNN and not enough fishing will mess up your mind.
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Eric Burnley is a Delaware native who has fished and hunted the state from an early age. Since 1978 he has written countless articles about hunting and fishing in Delaware and elsewhere along the Atlantic Coast. He has been the regional editor for several publications and was the founding editor of the Mid-Atlantic Fisherman magazine. Eric is the author of three books: Surf Fishing the Atlantic Coast, The Ultimate Guide to Striped Bass Fishing and Fishing Saltwater Baits. He and his wife Barbara live near Milton, Delaware. Eric can be reached at Eburnle@aol.com.
