"I shall now confess to you that none of the three trout had to be beheaded, or folded double, to fit their casket. What was big was not the trout, but the chance. What was full was not my creel, but my memory."

Aldo Leopold, “The Alder Fork” (1932)

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I first read Leopold’s classic “Sand County Almanac” when I was an undergraduate science major. The above quote from “The Alder Fork” was included in that same little yellow paperback. Over the years, these words have truly defined me as an angler.

Here’s my top five fishing memories of 2012:

 5) Telling my wife Nan I didn’t want to waste my time, mid-afternoon on a sunny day, casting for trout in the Smith River. Then watching trout hit my Black Ant pattern on, at least, a dozen successive casts.

4) Watching westslope cutthroat trout in B.C.’s Elk River drift up slowly to the surface to sip in the same Black Ant. The water was so clear I could see those brightly-colored fish come up, cautiously and slowly, over five feet, which made waiting to set the hook a true test of my angling patience.

3) Hearing my four-year old great nephew Carson proclaim, “Well, I hope that settles the question who’s the best fisherman in this boat.” We were bobber-fishing for perch in a local lake. Carson’s bobber had been bobbing, but he jerked the rod at just the right time and hooked a 12-inch perch.

2) Throwing every fly in my fly boxes at Missouri River trout that were zeroed in on an obscene PMD hatch. At one time, I was standing less than a fly rod’s length from a five-pound brownie that was methodically sipping PMDs and totally ignoring me and my offerings.

1) Casting for bonefish in Belize. Stalking in calf-deep water. Watching for dark shadows and tails. Seeing a fish slowly moving left to right 70 feet ahead. Dropping a Crazy Charlie delicately in the fish’s path. Pulling line slowly as the fish turns to follow the fly. Feeling a slight tug. Ripping hard with my stripping hand, then squeezing the rod grip and hearing the reel scream.