I keep wanting to write about spring but it seems pointless. Hell, if you've been outside you realize its here. If you've had trouble sleeping for the sunlight in your eyes, you realize it's here.
If every other conversation you take part in turns to fishing and, more importantly, dipnetting, you know it is here.
Has friends, that magical time of the year is nearly here - time to go full on fish psycho killer. I can't wait. If thing go according to plan, there will even be a bit of bike riding involved, as there usually is. My trailer is ready and my honky ass homemade hitch is ready to take a pounding as I haul gear and dogs to my super secret hole and haul dead bodies out.
Oh yes, I needs me some fish. The smoked and canned is gone, the plain canned is about decimated as well. The frozen is getting a bit thin as well.
Unlike some, I don't tire of eating the pink stuff. It is the perfect quick meal on the grill when it is sunny and warm, or a comfortable soup base when the weather is shite.
Let's be real though. We only eat the stuff to justify the yearly satiation of our bloodlust. Who doesn't get a perverse thrill out of gilling and bashing a red's head in? And when they taste so good, why not?