A letter from John, the managing editor

Dear Readers,

Spring has finally sprung its elemental magic upon the waters and earth. The faces and people are glowing as if they are at a Bonnaroo festival in the heart of the Tennessee Valley, and us anglers sit on the precipice of an environmental moment that will bring us all together like teens playing a Ouija board seance while stoned. Yes, spring is here and we all throw caution to the wind and begin the piscatorial chase. We all go through phases on our preferred quarry, and like children running to the pool out of mother’s grasp, we all occasionally forget sunscreen, much to our detriment. 

One of my Agricola Germanic forebears was a metallurgist. He wrote a text on alchemy entitled, De Res Metallica. So naturally I consider myself a wizard by the succession of my surname. I don’t like to toot the SCOF horn too much because it has been a group effort, but this Emergence Convergence Virtual Tourney is going to have people sharing in each other’s stories and glory for a frenetic month. People will call in sick to work just to get a taste. Common carp will transform from maligned “trash fish” to exotic golden mahseer like we have seen only Jeff Currier tangle with, and this will happen in the week the carp begin to orient from vacuum cleaner hose in the dirt to graceful dry fly sipping tanks, slurping from the surface of their ethereal heaven. This reaction will be an alchemy for jubilation and freedom from the monotony of responsibilities.

The internet is our nexus for communication and shared experience. This is not altogether new, but now terrific prized gear and Turtleboxes will flow like milk and honey for our winners. Instagram becomes a lit cave wall, we are the cavemen and cavewomen, cicadas and carp are the pictographic bison and deer, and our ability to pay our phone bill is our torch to watch the world on the edge of World War 3, playing in the impoundments and rivers of our great nation. Yes SCOF, you made it to the end of the world. The cicadas are as primordial as the ooze that Adam and Eve swam in, and they are nearly as eternal as God Himself. We hope you will participate in our glory holes on the internet; they will gush milk and honey and Turtleboxes. Please enjoy the “Reservoir Bow Hogs” issue, we certainly enjoyed making it!