Battle weary fisherman, defender of local waters seeks your help, to continue the fight



As I am sure you all know, that on well near 5 occasions in 2016, I have risked life and limb to save you from THE DREADED TROUT! Most of the time, although the danger is great, I do this quietly, and alone, confident that my actions will echo through the ages.

Occasionally, when the peril has been great, or if my victory included defeating many of the trout’s allies: The Elusive Bass, The MIGHTY White Perch, or the DREADED PICKEREL, I will share with you tales of the battle, and let you bask in the glory with me, almost as if you had been there to witness the carnage!

Never do I seek out compensation, though the losses of dozens of brave little shiners who sacrifice their lives haunt my dreams…I can still see their tiny little eyes looking up at me, and the brave little smile on their faces, as I send them into the depths of the lake with a deadly hook hidden in their bodies…However, though it shames me almost a little, this time I must seek reward for my heretofore acts of charity.

As I battled to save the life of a shiner that was deeply lodged in the throat of a particularly fearsome pickerel, I received a near fatal injury when the beast thrust open his gill plates! One of the large spines pierced the battle calloused flesh beneath the index finger on my left hand, nearly severing my arm, and a good portion of my shoulder.

Surely a lesser champion would have perished on the spot. BUT NOT I! NO nearly worthy admirers! Your HERO lives on, although in great agony. For these many days since the great battle of Monday Last, toxins from the evil fish’s slime have hidden under my skin. Waiting patiently for my body to think it had healed from the damages it received in that long ago battle almost 4 days past! The evil fish knew that plans for another assault on the demons of Etna Pond were in the making!

For now, there is minor swelling, and an almost irritating itch in the wound that without your help might keep me from ever being able to defend your lakes again.

The fish in your lake know too well my prowess, and come at me in ever greater numbers on each trip. In order to continue to keep your waters clear, I MUST be compensated for the miniscule amount of suffering I have endured! I will gladly consider all donations of cash, fishing gear, watercraft, motor vehicles, livestock, fair maidens or anything else of great value!

(Some versions of this incident have been horribly exaggerated!  It has even been hinted that in all actuality, my 10-year-old son is the one who caught the mighty fish that injured me… What kind of father would I be if I exposed my son to such peril? )

Doug Alley

About Doug Alley

I grew up in Bath, Maine in an upper lower class family with 3 step sisters, a step brother, and a little sister. After high school I spent 3 years serving in the USAF at Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage AK. I've competed in, and won, demolition derbies. I've competed in, and never won, stock car races. I am the 47-year-old father of an 11-year-old boy who is pretty sure he is smarter than I ever was. We live on a little less than an acre of land in a 1973 mobile home in Stetson with my wife Jen, some cats, a few chickens, and rabbits, and a couple of goats. I hunt, fish, camp out, dabble in photography, gardening, and I cook in variable degrees of near success.