We are coming into February and, believe it or not, for a group of friends, it was the month of the year; for on February 15th, in the Eastern fishery regions, trout-fishing opened on that day (now it has been put back to March 1st). Why do people go angling, anyway? The basic reason has to be that it is the means of bringing fish to the table that are absolutely fresh. Caught a couple of hours before. The only worthwhile and justifiable reason, some will hold. A February expedition to a certain little river about 40 miles from their homes in Dublin by a small group of friends used to ensure that several tea-times were given a lift by grilled trout, not more than a few hours out of the water. You can try to spin a whole philosophy out of the craft of luring out of their native element edible fish by a mixture of skills learned, decent tackle and a lot of luck - both with the technique and the water level and the weather. Not all anglers eat the fish they catch. One of the company referred to above never ate his catch. He didn't put the fish back into the water to be hooked again and possibly mangled, but distributed his bag among the friends or brought them home for some neighbour to whom they were a great treat and possibly financially very welcome.
Tom Fort asked recently in the Financial Times why the mass of the population who do not fish should be "so remarkably ignorant about those who do". And who hold to that adage about "fishermen's tales". He does admit that a certain embellishment is sometimes exhibited which might be taken by the mean-spirited as evidence of a shaky hold on reality, but rejects the idea that anglers are habitual liars as false, discriminatory and hurtful. Your true, and blessed angler is of such as the company of friends described above, wandering brooks and small rivers with light tackle, where a casual word with a farmer or passer-by and a remark on the state of agriculture or the political situation are nearly as much part of the day's outing as the landing of a few one-pound trout. To return again and again to the same river, to watch the march of the seasons, gives the city-dweller nearly as much pleasure as the landing of fish. Even if the old February opening day means eating your sandwiches in the shelter of a disused shed while the hailstones clattered on the roof, made of February 15th an annual ritual, no matter what the weather or water conditions, Spring began with that expedition to the river. And don't say that trout, after a hard winter, weren't in real condition. You haven't eaten them. Just hours after landing them.