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Fly Fishing Federation a great teaching group
Last week, Yours Truly was privileged to sit in on the fly tying workshop presented by members of the San Juan Fly Fishing Federation. Not only are Ray Hood, Willis Knight, and Jon Haxton great fly tiers, they are truly good people. In fact, I have been duly impressed with the Fly Fishing Federation as a whole. The entire group is friendly, plus they offer free fly fishing clinics, casting seminars, and tying demonstrations. And, they schedule monthly group fishing trips, volunteer to work with children and charitable projects while regularly having highway cleanup projects near the Quality Waters section on the San Juan River. The club is truly service-minded and the members' love for fly fishing shines brightly through every thing they do. It was not until recently, last winter in fact, that I joined the Federation.
Bird flu puts small dent in flyfishing business
DELTA, Colo. Lines of long, narrow, white buildings spread out across the ranch in the lush, green farmland of western Colorado. Inside are chickens, up to 85,000 in each of the dimly lit coops with interiors that feel like greenhouses and smell like outhouses. This is Tom Whiting's lab, where he creates new kinds of chickens or, more specifically, chicken feathers. Whiting is no mad scientist. He's a poultry geneticist and his company, Whiting Farms, is the world's largest producer of the chicken hackle that fly fishermen use for tying flies. Whiting keeps a watchful eye on his birds, from the time the chicks are hatched until their feathers are packaged and shipped to companies in roughly 40 countries. With the operation broken up among three ranches, Whiting has biological security from poultry diseases and protection from natural disasters that might wipe out his entire line.
· Failed angler confesses ...
Somewhere between the cloudy waters of Chub Ditch and blue ribbon mountain streams, I took a wrong turn. Learning to fish was supposed to hone character and cleanse the soul. There is nothing more masculine, more all-American, more Montanan than becoming an expert angler. Here follows the confession of an angler left behind. The Huck Finn I once was never outgrew fishing but fishing outgrew him. Fishing introduced me to a new world, a world of flash and wonder, murky mystery and electric connections. The watery world interfaced with this ocean of air at the surface of every creek, pond and river. Fishing line was the telegraph wire that communicated between the two. My first freshwater rig consisted of a willow pole, three yards of line, a bobber and a hook. I transmitted a cricket and waited for an answer.
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