northshorewaterman

Today I attended a presentation by the New England Fishery Management Council at city hall where we discussed the recent review of their approach to management  conducted by an outside consulting firm, the Touchstone group.  Eric Schwab moderated the discussion as a representative of NOAA, which we are apparently referring to as the ‘agency’ from now on.

Let me begin by saying that Eric Schwab was wearing a nice suit; he was clearly well-spoken; and he knew the approach to best handle any ‘difficult’ situation.  Truly a professional, Mr. Schwab receives payment from the American taxpayer to stroke his chin and nod while pretending to give a shit about what people are saying.   He then will deftly turn the topic to how the ‘agency’ is solving that very problem in one of the many make-believe phases it is initiating.  Who will be monitoring and analyzing the successes or failures of these ‘phases’?  Well shit on a shingle wouldn’t you know it?  Touchstone.

Now, the representative from Touchstone (whose name I can’t fully remember because I was still in shock from realizing that they  were responsible for the eighth grade power point I was reading) was also wearing a nice suit; was well spoken; and came down hard on the NEFMC and the agency.  To say that I could have written their report while sitting in my car waiting to go into the building would be an understatement.  It used big words to describe steps that could apply to any organization of any kind in the world.   Well done Touchstone…are you hiring?

I shutter to think about the money changing hands for this review.  However, given that some of the problems identified by Touchstone included: Redundancy; a need for simplification of governance; maximizing collaboration; and, wait for it, conduct several comprehensive analysisesi (someone tell me what the hell the plural is for analysis is) of different program implementations (again, which ol’ Schwabby said would also be conducted by Touchstone).

Now, I’m no rocket scientist.  But don’t some of these problems seem like they may be a result of an agency that has grown to large to control?  An agency that, despite managing a shrinking fishing fleet, has been on a hiring spree.  An agency that has built new buildings, boats and science centers while fishermen are forced to sell out to the highest bidders.  And how do we identify problems within?  Hire more folks to restate the obvious as long as it doesn’t mean we have to get off of the gravy train.

Well, relax Eric.  You can rest assured that no agency jobs will be lost.  And with a little tongue work you might even be able to sell the idea that the fisherman haven’t stepped up to do their part.

This picture…completely unrelated.

It’s better to be lucky than good.

chain grapple

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I know the blog has sucked this week/month…but the computer is still riddled with virusi.  Give me time…I’ll be able to write about the rats scurrying from NOAA’s ship.

So far.  I’m guessing about a size 18 delta winged chum-fly.  Unfortunately they were about twenty miles offshore and there were no fish eating them…only warblers.  Now, I’m not generally a bird guy, but I did have fun watching these little suckers track and then inhale bugs.  If they were trout, it would have been (wait for it) Epic.

warbler catches fly

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Yes, it’s a video of a bird.  But watch closely at the end.

This one seemed to have an edge with the camo and all.

That’s how we grow asparagus on the north side, mofo.  Suck it, 19 sunset.com.

Having spent the last few days trying to figure out the virus situation on my PC, the topic of pornography keeps on popping up.  And while I maintain that it was not my browsing habits that left me exposed to this vicious attack on my shiny picture box, well, it probably is.

Now, the definition of pornography is kind of relative.  I mean showing off a sexy set of eyes might get you locked up in the right country.  I like to think of my definition of pornography as being anything that doesn’t actually stop my heart when I see it.  Which inevitably leads me to some suspect web-sites created in the types of places where  two midget’s, a dentist’s chair and a donkey are left alone to explore the limitations of elasticity.

All that aside, are there any people out there that don’t occasionally wander into the perverse?  I mean with all that is just a click away now, in 30 years its going to take some pretty sick stuff just to get the blood flowing.  That’s why, once my computer is fixed, I am making a personal resolution to stem the tide of the ‘two girls one cup’ mentality of today’s porn sites: I will look at nothing but vintage porn from now on.  There, I said it.  I feel oddly liberated…back in a minute.

I don’t know why you have to be such a dick.  I mean, you can’t really make a living by creating malicious software designed to steal my identity.  You will eventually be caught…and I, for no reason aside from a little bad karma, have to find someone who knows how to deal with this shit.  They are always too expensive and I don’t appreciate the dirty looks I get when some stranger goes looking through my browsing history.  What, you think you’re better than me dorky guy that I’m picturing right now even though he doesn’t exist?  I’ll show you perverted.  Anyway, whoever created this little gem that is currently making my life slightly less convenient, I hope that the authorities do not catch you.  I hope it is some deranged face-booking world of war-craft sped kid with gorilla strength.  I also hope he skins you alive and leaves you to die on an anthill.  I’d do it myself if I weren’t a pacifist.

I am just kind of winging this.  For starters, I don’t think that you are supposed to use horse-shit in the garden because any seeds that the horses  have eaten will germinate.

I did anyway because who has cow shit nowadays?  I figured that I could combat this problem by tarping the whole deal over until we planted; then once the rows are planted we (Sarah) can lay down newspaper and cover that with salt hay to keep the weeds at bay.  I sprinkled in some chicken shit and some ash from this years burn pile in  just for good measure.  The chicken shit was seasoned so as not to ‘burn’ the plants…something I  should have looked into for the horse shit. 

70′ of tarp that I used to cover the freshly tilled garden this morning.  Gale warning up from 6pm tonight through tomorrow mid-day. I can’t envision any problems.

Generally, as a rule of thumb (sorry ladies), if the trout are so conditioned to people that they will sit two feet below where you are standing and eat the nymphs you kick out of the rocks, it’s a good bet that they are going to be hard to catch… baring some apocalyptic cloud of locusts descend on the river.  However, the sun was out; the river was beautiful; and we managed to put hooks into a couple of fish.

san juan shuffle

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The Swift runs out of the bottom of the Quabbin reservoir and is no secret.  The fish are pretty but in the cold clear water that maintains frigid temps all year they generally focus on very small prey.  This was my hot fly:

I know the picture sucks, but with flies this small do details really matter?   Spend a day trying to get one of the dozen trout in front of you to come up and eat this puny thing and you will become a little edgy.  Someday I’m going to drive out there, without my gear, and just watch all of the people swearing at fish.

but it didn’t feel very good.