Bob Maciulis with another good article

'Because I can' doesn't mean that you should

It was a new T-shirt but the silk-screening had been designed to look faded, as though the shirt had been worn for many years.

Like a rock star with jeans torn and frayed. I suppose it is meant to show that the person wearing it has spent considerable time outdoors. That they've paid their dues.

The broken lettering stated "Because I can."

It is a foolish bit of bravado, but it has permeated outdoors recreation and is especially favored by rock climbers, white water kayakers and mountain bikers.

Like a guy who hits a 15-foot jump shot then duck walks around the court with his hands flattened and his head bobbing like a pigeon eating gravel along Route 31.

Yet, there is a lesson in it for all of us.

During these scorching summer days when the water heats up and the current is barely perceptible on some stretches of the river, the fish suffer more than we do.
We can slip off into some place that is air-conditioned. We can sit in the shade and drink something cool. We can head to some place more comfortable, like a wooded grove, even to another state where it is cooler.

Fish in the Fox River try to do the same.

They seek out deep holes below riffles, where the water is cooler and holds more oxygen.
They find places where springs trickle cool water into the river. Places that are shaded.
In a river as shallow as the Fox, there might be relatively few places in which they can find respite. So, a small pool that might hold a few fish under better conditions can now be crowded with dozens.

A friend began fishing the Fox River during the drought year of 1988. It hadn't rained for months and the air temps were over 100 degrees for several weeks and he was slamming the smallmouth bass, he said, every evening.

He quickly changed after work and hit the river for what he described as the best smallmouth bass fishing he'd experienced in his life.

That was quite a statement for a guy who'd fished some of the best smallmouth waters in the Midwest, including Pickwick, the upper Mississippi, Lake Erie and the Rainy River area.
"I'm catching and releasing 50 fish some evenings!" He shouted as he threw his waders into the trunk of his car. "Most of the time, I'm not even moving! It's like fishing in a barrel!"

Like fishing in a barrel, I thought. That's an ambition I never could understand. What's the fun in that? What's the point?

During this difficult time of the summer, is it really that important to catch 15 smallmouth an evening?

It depends why you do what you do. There are enough ways to count success when outdoors. A 12-point buck. A double on ducks. A limit of fish for a fish fry.

Yet, few of us would golf if the hole were the size of a garbage can lid.

Or shoot baskets if the hoop were so large that you never missed. Or, if everybody were hitting the ball over the fence every time up.

The challenge evolves from one of the most basic outdoors traditions and the basis for our conservation ethic: Fair Chase.

The thrill and satisfaction comes from getting there. Not just, "Because I can."