Tuesday, May 06, 2008

The fish will fight back.

Right then. The last two days of my life have included fly fishing and five red panda.

I text a friend to say that I had spent the day fly fishing and the message came back with, 'Who is this? Have you stolen this phone?' I am so not the fly fishing type. You could take the word fly out of that sentence and it would still be true. (I was being paid to be there.)

I am, however, the eating-fish type. Will eat it till the cows come home and redecorate, but please don't ask me to catch it. On the times that I have been trapped on a boat that has had fish hauled on board you will generally find me scampering away to put as much room (in as short a possible time) between me and the flapping, dying, hurting fish.

Needless to say it's reasonably dangerous to go fishing with me in a dingy.

Once I get as far away as physically possible from the fish I then start to apologise.

Flap. Flap. Gasp. Gasp. Die.Die.

'Sorry!' I cry from the other side of the boat.'I'm really sorry, Fishie!'

But then once the fish is dead, I am the first to the table to consume the freshly-dead fish.

If I was a fish, I would really hate me.

When I was a little girl and we were staying at Lake Hayes (see photo below) my father and uncle were off fishing. When they were down at the lake side I heard them calling my name. I went to the edge of the lawn and my father hollered, 'Katie, we forgot the beer! Can you get us some beer?'

So, being the dutiful daughter, I took my little legs off to the beer fridge and became a beer mule. When I got down to the lake I asked my father why he needed the beer.

'Because the fish like the smell of it.'

And I believed that for about the next twenty years of my life.

Now I understand where I get my gift for messing with small people's brains. I inherited it.

But back to my fly fishing. During the course of the day they landed four fish.

And then they threw them back.


I'm sorry, but I just don't get it. I understand that it's good for numbers and all that, but what about the fish? I'm not sure about the argument there. 'We won't deplete numbers by catching and eating them, however we are happy to put a hook through their mouth drag them to the side of the river and then throw them back.'

So you are happy to terrorize and stress them, but you will make it alright by not eating them?

I wouldn't be surprised if the fish start to fight back.

After all, chickens are getting their own back with bird flu. We should be very afraid.

P.S Red panda another day.


Sunshine said...

It seems like a giant contradiction when you get these 'save our rivers and ocean' fishermen who are all for protecting the fish yet they are happy snare any unsuspecting fish with a hook, then spend in some cases hours pulling on that hook to wind them in, then pull that barbed hook out. And then to really make the fish's day they stick a tag into it before releasing it and patting themselves on the back for being good to the local wildlife!

laughykate said...

I am so with you on that one.

Apply the same theory to humans, 'Your honour, I didn't have ANY intention of ever killing him. I tortured and terrorized him and yes, he will have nightmares for the rest of his life, but there was never any question of KILLING the poor fellow. That would be terribly wrong.Now, can I have a public holiday in my honour for being such a good chap?'

Sunshine said...

I wonder how the fishermen would feel if they had to get tagged everytime they along with the fish they caught. But I guess that could appeal to some people.........ie, those that like to adorn themselves with bits of metal stuck through their skin, but then again, I doubt if any of them would know what a fishing rod looks like.

laughykate said...

'A hook through the lip for you, a hook through the lip for me.....'