I talked to a few of my friends the other day, one of whom asked the question, “Do you think the snow is over for good?”

That was the week following the Thursday snow, the temperatures were hovering around 60 degrees and birds were singing. “Yes it will,” I said. “It will snow on April 2.”

Now, you might wonder how I came to acquire this knowledge in advance. It wasn’t some miraculous act of meteorological magic, but a simple fact of nature.

Every year that I can recall, the weather has been lousy on the opening day of fishing season.

Saturday morning, which marked the opening day of trout season, I awoke at 5 a.m. and walked to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

My fishing buddy called me about 15 minutes later. “You going?” He asked me.

“Well, it rained better than an inch here last night and I figure the creeks are up pretty good. I might go just to watch you get washed away in Little River,” I joked.

I later took a ride around and saw how deep and muddy the water was, making it fairly well pointless to try and catch a fish.

Another friend from Sparta, who I didn’t talk with until Monday, said he rode out to the Rifle Range on Saturday and it looked like a tent city. Tarps and tents were everywhere, along with the many expensive brands of waders and fancy vehicles.

He kind of got a chuckle out of the whole thing, joking that the flatlanders were all washed up.

Granted, while the imported fishermen are a boon to the local economy and don’t stay long, they do tend to often draw the ire of the local fishermen. Sometimes for good reasons and sometimes not.

When I start thinking about it, I always recall the fellow who was trying to fish where I was standing and nearly hooked my waders. I also remember more than one instance where folks walked up and around where I was at and managed to spook all the fish out of a particularly good hole with little or no awareness of what they were doing.

These are trout, people. We’re not fishing for carp or catfish here. Trout run away when people make loud noises and stand in front of them in the water or on the bank.

The only thing a lot of these guys have going for them is the fact that they are fishing for stocked trout and not natives. Stocked trout are generally pretty stupid and eat almost anything that floats by, unless of course the water is up a foot or so like it was Saturday.

Then the only thing I would know to do is tie on a spark plug, as one friend suggested, toss in a big hole and wait. If I have to trout fish like that, I’ll just stay home.

Anyway, another reason that I decided not to even try it happened on Wednesday. I decided then to take a day off on Thursday to catch up on some work, only to be hit with a terrible cold.

I took a vacation day, to beat all.

Anyway, I was still stuffed up on Saturday, the water was raging and the wind.... Did I mention the wind?

It was blowing so hard that one of the cats tried to jump on the window sill and ended up on the neighbor’s roof. I was surprised that we didn’t all wake up in Oz by Sunday morning.

When I walked out to start the truck, I realized that I had also lost my trash can, but a nicer one blew into the yard later in the day, so I didn’t complain much.

As I started off by pointing out earlier, Saturday evening, my prediction had come true — snow was falling and the weather was awful, as usual, on opening day. Flowers are blooming and birds are singing on Thursday and Friday, but come Saturday it all goes to pot.

Us fishermen wait all winter for opening day, since it marks the beginning of Spring. Of course, Spring itself, a time of rebirth and renewal, also marks the end of the local male’s hibernation and the beginning of the long-awaited fishing season.

But with a head cold, raging water, hard winds and temperatures hovering around ‘brrrrr’, I didn’t see it happening. I just went back in to take a few more cold pills, antibiotics and vitamins and hibernate for at least another day.

Later, as I went to fetch the cat, I went ahead and walked out to the building, one arm extended and head down. After I managed to open the door without letting the wind rip it off the hinges, I slammed it shut and walked over to my gear. With a wisp of a tear forming in one eye, I lovingly touched my waders and fishing gear, all prepared with such care for the day’s trip that never took place.

Even so, unlike those who only visit the area once a year, I get to live here every day and fish whenever I choose. Unless, of course I have to work.

Since I do have to work this Friday and Saturday, I can guarantee that the weather will be perfect and the sun will be shining.

If your meteorologist tells you otherwise, just remember the snow. Then again, even a blind dart player can hit the board sometimes. It’s the rest of the time that you worry about.

Get more tongue in cheek commentary this week's issue of the Alleghany News!

Email: allnews@ls.net