FOR CONNECTICUT ANGLERS
by Bonnie Tardella – December 2005
Our boat’s begun her five-month nap
She rests within a white cocoon
Quite mummy-like in tight shrink-wrap
Beneath the Northeast winter’s moon.
Striped bass and blues have quit the Sound
A-headin’ south for living quarters
And scup are Alabammy-bound
To find new mates in warmer waters.
So how can we, despondent anglers
Survive these awful, fishless days?
Let’s strike at lines and lures a-tangle!
And wend our way through tackle maze.
The Plano box is your first chore
The plugs and swimmers need repair
You’d meant to get to them before
You’ve no excuse now; winter’s here.
So let’s inspect that treasure chest
It smells of dank; there’re scales and rust
Two drawers are cracked, one shelf’s distressed
And the latch is slightly caked with crust
The jar that held the striped pork rind
Has leaked and ruined a feather jig.
Look! There’s that hook you couldn’t find-
It’s wedged in the umbrella rig!
Ooh…the tube of lube has lost its cap
It’s oozed down everything below
It’s seeped into each swivel snap
And everywhere that ooze can flow
Don’t be discouraged by the mess
Triage is simple once it’s started
Select the keepers, chuck the rest
All useless junk should be discarded.
Now clean your rod; scrape off your reel;
Last season’s salt eliminate
That stick must have great flex appeal
When next spring’s lunker hits your bait.
A job like this is good for you
When you’re beset by cabin fever
It’s therapy for doldrums, too-
A winter layoff stress reliever.
And whistle while you work; another spring is always around the corner!