For the love of bugs

Snow fell here two nights ago, and although signs of it where gone by midday the next, the message was clear: winter isn’t over yet.

Some pass the time tying flies, while others drink beer and watch fish porn. But the klan is really just waiting for the bugs to bust out.


You know, the majority of humankind doesn’t wish for bugs.  Although considered consumable delicacies in many parts of the two-footed terrestrial world, bugs generally get a bad rap.  Meanwhile, they set the fly fishing set’s hearts aflutter.

We want them so thick that they harass and harangue our eyes and ears.  Get sucked up our noses, and rest on our sandwiches.  Found floating in stream-side beverages, and then tossed into the lions’ den.  They come home with us, attached to the windshield interiors.  Discovered dead in our gear bags, sometimes weeks later.

Friends we call them – best friends. When and where there are bugs, there is bliss. As long as you fly fish.

Spring is officially just one month away.  Yet I’m still buggin’.

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