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Another Opener – the tradition continues.
#1
[size 2]Another Opener – the tradition continues.
By
Bob Salerno
A similar version of this article first appeared in the Berlin Citizen in April of 2000.

For thousands of Connecticut fishermen, the third Saturday in April – the traditional opening day of fishing season is as much a rite of spring as the cry of “Play Ball.” It’s the day many of us anglers have anxiously awaied for months. Yes, we have the TMA’s and some striper fishing to keep us occupied when the weather permits, but here is nothing like the season opener to shake off the last remaining effects of the winter doldrums.
Be it lake, pond, river or stream, anglers of all ages will be there to cast their worms, lures, shiners, flies or pantry baits for the almost half-million trout released by the D.E.P.
Foul weather or sunshine, Opening day 2009 starts April 18th at 6a.m.

Is everything ready for that 4 a.m. ring of the alarm clock? Is his tackle in shape? Is the clothing and gear laid out/? In order to answer these important questions, let us take a look into the home of a typical Connecticut angler as the opener approaches.

“Tis the night before opening day” – my apologies to Clement Moore- “and all through the house not a creature is stirring” except for his beloved spouse who is sleepily assembling turkey and roast beef sandwiches and setting up the automatic coffee maker.

“His waders are hung by the furnace with care” in hopes that the patches he finally got around to gluing on at 10 p.m. last night will be dry before he takes his first step into the icy stream in the morning.
His new rod that he secretly charged to his VISA card is kept hidden in the attic. His fishing vest and jacket hang from the doorknob in the hallway where he is sure not to forget them.

The three dozen flies he tied over the winter are stacked in boxes on his desk. His creel and wading staff are hooked around the clothes rack by the front door and his lucky hat sits over his bedpost as he is sound asleep dreaming of a trophy rainbow.

“Out on the lawn there arises a clatter” – as an SUV mistakenly stops in his neighbors driveway and his fishing buddy leans on the horn waking everyone else on the street and eventually the fishermen himself.
He spring from the bed with energy and enthusiasm never seen on a workday. He thrusts his right foot through the crotch opening in his long underwear falling back on the bed almost knocking his wife to the floor.

Stumbling around in the dark, he switches on the overhead light, triggering a loud groan from his wife.
After banging open and closing every draw in his bedroom, he finally manages to complete his ensemble of wading pants and his lucky fishing shirt – the one he was wearing when he hooked the trophy brown from beside the Volkswagen sized boulder in the “stair step pool” four years ago.
Racing through the house from attic to basement, he collects his gear and deposits them in a heap in the middle of the kitchen. Taking two steps at a time he sprints up to his bedroom shouting to his wife to tell him what she did with his polypropylene and fleece wading socks – the pair he got for Christmas last year.
After a frantic search the socks are discovered in his sock drawer. Back down the stairs and through the kitchen the fishermen nearly crashes through the door to the garage in for his mud boots. After sliding the right boot on the left and the left on the right he quickly reverses feet to boots and sprints back into the kitchen leaving a trail of dried mud on the clean tile floor. The fisherman gathers up his equipment and dashes out the front door. Our hero angler gets only a step and a half on to the porch as he is catapulted backwards and almost everything he is carrying goes airborne. His fishing buddy impatiently leans on the horn for the fourth or fifth time, as he picks himself up and unhooks his wader suspenders from the storm door handle.
The SUV and two anxious anglers are halfway to the Farmington River when he remembers that the lunch of roast beef and turkey sandwiches is still in the refrigerator and his license along with the three dozen flies he tied over the winter are on his desk.

“Next year he moans, next year I’ll get ready in time.” [/size]
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