A man backs his boat
trailer down the ramp and pauses for a moment as he catches the gold reflection
of the late afternoon sun off the water in the side mirror. He sighs knowing
this is one of the last perfect days of extended summer. Despite the temperature
being almost eighty degrees he can sense the change in the air. It’s that
special time of year when warm sunny days and clear cool nights bring bait
inside in large schools, on to the flats and into the grass. And with them,
fish.
He eases the boat back
and checks the trailer in the mirror on the other side of the truck. He sees
his companions’ face watching the trailer in the mirror, eyes focused in deep
concentration and anticipation. He asks, “You ready?”
Without moving his
body in the seat the dog looks back at him over his shoulder and says, “Yeah
dude, hit it, let’s go!”
Yes, dogs can speak.
They drop the boat
in, park the truck and trailer and hustle down the dock, the dog leading the
way staring back at his human every few steps to make sure he’s coming. They
stop to talk to a friend who is just tying up on the other side of the dock.
The dog sits at the man’s feet for a few seconds and then unable to endure the
conversation any longer trots down the dock and jumps into his boat and stands
post on the bow. The man takes this as his cue, slips the bow line and boards
the dog’s skiff.
Before idling out
into the river the man strips out line on the eight-weight, checks the leader
and fly and sets the rod in the bow. He throttles up and points the boat
downriver as the dog takes his customary seat next to him. They’ve done this
hundreds of times, these few moments between leaving the dock and getting to
the first spot to check for fish still as exciting as the first time. It’s that
way for both of them.
The man thinks of a
phone call earlier in the day. Friends had invited him out to do
something…watch a ballgame at a bar or follow some trivial pursuit…but as usual
he passed knowing something more meaningful might be found in the backwater. His
declining of the invite was met with, “Why, you going fishing with the dog? You
gotta’ get a life.”
No response was
given. Looking into the dog’s eyes now as they motor downriver he knows he didn’t
need to give one. Very simply, this is what he and the dog do. They’ve learned
this life on the water together, each defined by it and by one another. The man
shifts the boat into neutral and the boat drifts out of the channel toward the
grass.
The marsh is flooded
with a plus tide, the afternoon light starting to fall, the water like glass
and the grass standing still in the quiet air. Periodically the calm is broken
by pockets of baitfish fleeing for their lives in front of wakes pushed by
predators. The man shuts off the engine, raises the motor and poles the boat
into the carnage zone. Both take quiet steps up to the bow. The man picks up
the rod as the dog takes his seat next to him taking obvious care obtained from
experience not to sit on the fly line. Two false casts are made and the fly
lands between clumps of marsh grass. Fast strips bring the fly through the
grass and on the pause it is inhaled from below. The dog stands up, tail
wagging back and forth. The line goes tight and the fish fights back thrashing
at the water with its entire body. The dog steps up to the point of the bow to
watch the action play out. The man brings the fish boat-side and kneels down to
release it, holding it for a few seconds for the dog to sniff it. As the fish
is let go, the water beside the boat suddenly erupts with dancing bait and
slapping tails.
The man and the dog
look at each other, smile and in unison say, “Holy shit! Did you just see that?”
Yes, dogs can speak.
I was that man. I have
lived those moments described above many times but as I wrote this I was thinking
about my friend Rich Walker and his dog Tucker in Charleston, SC.
They have been
together for nine years and have been fishing together for almost all of it. Tuck was a
quick study and it took only a few outings for him to figure out that if he
didn’t chase that thing at the end of the line when Rich threw it in the water,
crazy things would happen and sometimes a really cool looking creature would
come back at the end of the line.
Yes, dogs can speak.
In the course of
fishing together and taking pictures and video of casts, misses, catches and
Tuck, Rich and three fellow anglers joined forces and created Flyline Media.
This media group came about not as a business venture but as a collective, drawing
on the skills and talents of each of its members to capture through film and
photography the moments that inspire them to return to the water time and time
again.
Great art and
moments in time that are not forgotten are generally brought forward by those
who think and act outside the proverbial box. The guys at Flyline are the types
who deconstruct boxes. Actually, I think they kick them apart. Having heard for
years that tailing reds on the flood tide would not eat a surface presentation,
they formulated a thesis that it could be done and set out to dispel this myth.
The results are presented in their film, TALL TAILS: Legend of the Gurgler.
For those of us who
knew the creator of the Gurgler, Jack Gartside, it will have special meaning.
Jack would have loved this.
And while you view
the film, watch Tucker and watch his face.
Yes, dogs can speak.
*Photo's from Rich Walker, Ryan Rice and Flyline Media
North River, MA
7 October 2014
