Rolfsruds grew up by Lake Andrew but would starve if they had to fish for food. No one fishes. Maybe Becky is ocean fishing in Venice, we just don't know what she's doing most of the time. Steve can't sit still long enough and mono-filament line would doubtless foul in his crooked fingers anyway. Sosie has tons of hobbies, birdwatching while riding a bicycle, for example, but few of them involve killing things. Virgil suffers sanitation anxiety over wiping bloody filet knives on trousers and Linda won't fish because Ron doesn't and Erling didn't.So it would be left to me to feed the flock were it to come to that. I thought I had shown my willingness to do so when I presented a portfolio of passive pictures (below) from a Canadian retreat. But then someone noted that since I didn't appear with an actual wriggling, gasping fish in hand, as all self-respecting fishermen are wont to do, I apparently had been skunked and was trying to change the subject.
Thanks to an email from fellow reel man Mark Weber, I can now present evidence of my fishing competency.
True, the pictured lake trout is not all that big, but it is still probably the biggest fish the Rolfsruds will catch all year long.
