This issue showcases the debut of a unique column called "James Prosek's Trout of the World" by FR&R's newest contributing editor. As young as he is-not yet 30-James Prosek needs no introduction to most anglers. His first book, Trout: An Illustrated History, published while he was still an undergraduate
Every so often, A.K. Best runs into somebody who is surprised to discover that he is an actual, walking-and-breathing human being-one who creates trout flies and smokes little cigars, no less. "I thought John Gierach made you up!" they'll tell him. I think there are a number of things that account for
The Fire(power) Within
She said, "It's the quiet ones ya gotta watch out for." "She" was a (slightly) older woman and workmate of mine at the Connecticut factory where I spent four extremely educational years between high school and college, and she was instructing me about the type of man most likely to be a successful seducer
When I first read Nick Lyons' profile of Craig Mathews, our 2005 Angler of the Year, I almost laughed out loud at the part where Nick praised Craig for his refreshing modesty in a field "known for bloating egos to the size of the Titanic." Among all the fly-fishing "personalities" I've become acquainted
A couple of months ago, as my kids and I were passing through Connecticut on our way home from a family trip, I got the urge to visit the place where, some 38 years ago, I caught my first trout. My first three trout actually-all native brookies, and all taken from a small pool in the same tea-color brook
In our June Letters column, Bruce Halliday, of Centerville, Ohio, suggested that the magazine launch some sort of "Reader's Choice Angler of the Year Award." Bruce pointed out that ever since we first began recognizing our Anglers of the Year in 1985, most of the people who received the award have been
My spring, 1979 semester at the University of Arizona was like a country song: filled with little but hard work, heartache and hangovers, and I couldn't wait to get the hell out of Tucson. Almost as soon as I'd finished my last final exam, I packed my pickup truck and headed for Alaska. Along the way
A while back my good friend, Richard Corbett, was driving past my house on the way to a construction job when he got the sudden urge to pull into my driveway for no other reason than to show off the superb specimen of a gray squirrel he had just salvaged from the side of the road. "It's still warm,"
As you will see in our Letters column, we were recently contacted by a reader-Mr. David Hanna, of Rapid City, South Dakota-who wanted to know why FR&R takes a "liberally biased stance on coldwater conservation issues." I replied to Mr. Hanna's e-mail, he answered back, and we had quite a little correspondence
I grew up as a deprived youngster-although I was scarcely aware of it at the time, and it left no permanent scars. By deprived I mean that my fishing life consisted entirely of catching brook trout on worms, dunking crayfish for smallmouth bass and twirling minnows in the tidal current for snapper blues.
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