CARPTIORIOUS: When The Fat Lady Sings

When it snowed Friday morning I was ready to mail in the season.  Picture a grown man in the fetal position crying in the corner while sucking his thumb.  Pathetic.  Being a carper I did what carpers do though.  I scraped myself off the floor and hit the water, because, like, you never know. Right? Right?

And when it comes to carp you really never do know.  Their active temperature range is so beyond any other freshwater game-fish that sometimes we sell them short.  Yes, even after catching carp in the last 32 straight months I sometimes under-estimate them.  By the time I walked up to a local pond Friday morning it was a frigid 41 degrees, and I really just thought I was out for a glorified walk.  But there it was, a tail.  And another.  And several fish feeding lethargically on top.  What.  The.  Hell.

I didn't manage to catch any of those fish - but eventually I did manage to catch A fish - and on a day like that? Snow in the morning, carp in the afternoon?  Dig it.

There it is though.  Snow.  Yikes.  Is it time?  Is the season over?  Well, I for one am not quite ready, and just two days later it was definitely NOT snowing.  85 and sunny, so I loaded up the Standamaran and hit the flats this afternoon.  

Yeah - the season may be on the way out.  The fat lady is probably humming but that's OK, because I am tone deaf.  No.  Really.  I am honest to goodness tone deaf.   So to heck with the fat lady.