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From the neighborhood golf course to the Caribou parking lot, our cup runneth over. The amount of water pumping through the greater Twin Cities area and dumping into my hood is immense. At least one guy found the silver lining in our time of need. This season of historic high water has forced some to find leisure elsewhere.

There’s a segment of our posse that seems to take themselves and our sport just a little too seriously. The most vocal of these folks raked me over the coals via Moldy Chum a couple of years ago. I had the audacity to show a spawning run fish containing eggs in my “stale as week old bread” Milwaukee’s Best post on the header. Heavy doses of Johnny Rotten in my formative years must have done damage to my better judgement. If you tell me not to do something, there’s a good chance I’ll just do it again. The good news is that the notoriously picky spawning fish have switched from “getting busy” to a summertime feeding mode. I have to give a special shout out to the old timer that watched me catch that little guy and offered to take a “grip-n-grin” shot of the beleaguered chum. My tungsten hot bead and estaz version of the controversial Eggi Juan Kenobi fly was doing some serious damage that day. A stout reinforcement of the old adage, there’s no place like home.

 

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