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Hold the line on the Great Lakes
Will Washington do what it takes to prevent yet another invasive species from wreaking havoc on fisheries? Most of us have seen the videos of flying carp. As a bowhunter, my favorites are the ones where people use arrows to target the leaping fish. Most of the time the video ends with a few fish…
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The tug or the mug?
Is there anything more beautiful than a brook trout? Chris Hunt photo. I love trout. I particularly love wild trout. And, frankly, I don't really care how big (or how little) they are. But this spring, I've been something of a fishing dilettante. Bonefish in the Bahamas. Carp in the desert. Oscars and peacock bass…
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The benefits of remote work
This may sound a bit tone deaf, and my sincere apologies if that’s the case -- circumstances impact all of us differently. But working remotely, thanks largely to the coronavirus outbreak, is not without its benefits. I know a lot of us are itching to get back into the office and resume “normal” as soon…
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A time for carp
I just got back from a week in the Bahamas, where I put in long days on the flats stalking wily bonefish. It was good practice, because now, as runoff starts to cloud my local trout rivers, it's a time for carp. Wait. Bonefish? As a practice run for carp? Oh, hell yeah. Particularly if…
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What species is the ‘fish of your lifetime?’
Brook trout might be the most stunning of all, but are they the 'fish of a lifetime?' All photos by Chris Hunt. I’ve spent a lifetime chasing trout along the spine of the continent. Save for about 10 of my 52 years, where I’ve lived elsewhere due to circumstance or obligation, my views have always…
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The cult of the invasive fish
Growing up in the Denver suburbs, one of my favorite childhood haunts was a public park a short bike ride from home. It sported the sketchy jungle gym with the sharp, rusty edges, the little spring loaded ridable critters that, with enough momentum, could send a small child into orbit, and a small lake that…
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Ode to the stocker
It was a cold, rainy day in April in the southern suburbs of Denver. I looked out my bedroom window, anxiously hoping the spring squall would go away. I’ll never forget my mother coming downstairs with the bad news. I was dressed and ready to go. Fishing shirt. Blue jeans. Old sneakers. I had a…
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