Ol’ Dutch has recently acquired quite the reputation for bringing wet weather events wherever he travels. This isn't something new of course since it always seemed to rain when I would plan fishing or hunting vacation while I was still working.
However, given the events of the past few years it has become apparent to even the most doubtful of souls that something mystical is at work.
History tells us that whenever there was a drought in the land, a parade of charlatan soothsayers would travel around with loud speeches convincing the farmers to pay them to bring rain. This in and of itself is an amazing feat as getting any farmer to part with hard earned cash is like trying to pull weeds in a parking lot.
So anyway, these old timers would come around and shoot off fireworks and cannons trying to coerce the clouds to form and give an abundance of rain. There was some logic to that train of thought as big rains often followed huge artillery battles during wars. So town to town they would go, collecting offerings like a televangelist on steroids. It often resulted in a good old tar and feathering of the rain man upon his failure to produce the promised rain. I guess the farmers didn't mind paying for tar and they all had chickens to spare.
My connection to these old timers became clear last summer during the West Fork Fire. A dry hot summer had led to the disastrous fires in Southern Colorado and we all watched as the fire roared down Wolf Creek Pass toward South Fork. We were one of the last to evacuate and after a day or two we returned to town on red alert to leave at a moment’s notice.
With the fire only a few miles up Hwy 149 one evening, I walked over to the Rio Grande and fished. The red glow in the distance formed an amazing backdrop to the evening hatch. And then, it began to rain. And it did not stop all summer long finally bringing the rivers up, up, up and threats of flooding. Only my leaving in October surely prevented a cataclysmic flood event only to be matched by the one that Noah endured.
My winter travels took me to Dallas where I planned on fishing with my son until Christmas. As soon as I got my rods out, it began to SNOW. Unprecedented ice and snow followed the entire time I was there and finally chased me to warmer climes.
Arriving in Alabama to visit Cricket, my daughter, I was greeted with 7°F temperatures followed by two months of snow, ice and rain. It was the worst winter they have ever had.
Finally succumbing to pressure from the Chamber of Commerce and local fishing guides, I moved on south to Florida for a month of fishing.
Unpacking my gear seems to be the same as using the cannons of old to attract rain but much quieter and much more effective. As soon as we arrived, cold weather moved in and the rains began. The water in the campground is knee deep to a tall goat and tents are floating past; the Spring Break kids are using Ipads for paddles.
Some of Trixie's friends see the correlation between my travels and the rainfall and they are asking that I please visit California to relieve the drought conditions there. My farmer friends in Kansas are asking the same thing.
One friend remarked that there is no place to fish in Western Kansas but he does not understand the finer points of angling. Fishing is possible anywhere including a dry desert dune. Catching is another thing and that does require a certain amount of water.
So it appears that if you are suffering from a shortage of moisture -- be it snow or rain or maybe even dry skin -- I am the answer to all your problems.
Not one to miss out on a business opportunity, Trixie has decided that people might be willing to pay for my services if I would come to their community and fish in the town square thereby guaranteeing rains. While some may balk at paying their fair share, just let me stay a month or two and they will pay me to leave once they see their house float by in the ensuing floods.
I am currently looking to buy land to farm in the Sahara Desert and expect a great return on irrigated corn or alfalfa once I go there to fish. Ol’ Dutch laughs in the face of the climate change experts who try to use science against real magic.
So if you are in the need for rain, give my agent a call and see what we can work out. For the rest of you, hang onto your hats and umbrellas as I am headed back to Colorado in May and Noah has no more room in the Ark.