Oscar. No, I’m not talking about that weird statue they fight over in Hollywood. We call our "camp fish" Oscar. The lad means good fortune. It’s always a good sign when you have a rising fish right by where you have rigged camp. It’s a cheerful, positive thing. The sign of hope, the ligt at the end of the tunnel and so on. Chose whatever metaphor you like.
K and me have started to call this fish Oscar. Of course he’s not to be fished for. That’ll be utter madness. No, we need him to keep the small light of hope alive. Bad nights sleep, grumpy ´cos it rained a bit and the f…. Knott are gettin´ at ya? No worries - Oscar will save your day. All is good when Oscar then makes a small splash, a tiny noise or just produces a ring on the otherwise dead and liveless water. The day is saved.
So don’t kill Oscar. Leave him alone … and that’s why we gave him a name. You don’t bother fish with names.
I’m off doing a longer motorcycle trip through the mountains of Norway. Might fling a fly here and there, but of course not to catch Oscar. Just the others.