Some say April is the cruelest month.

I beg to differ on that point, but I will concede the perils of the fourth month are many.

I prefer to think of April as nature’s prankster.

Outdoorsmen know this well: If the forecast is fair and warm, they’d better take along a fur-lined raincoat and galoshes , for April is thoroughly unpredictable—no one knows what will happen to the weather, or the fishing.

Spring in the valleys of our region means seeing life unfold with turtles courting; bird songs expressing the songsters’ eagerness to fulfill their destiny; robins flashing by in a whir of wings; maple leaves unfolding; and the whole riverbank embracing a warm flush of gold and red and soft green.

Trout start rising in April in the stocked streams of Southern West Virginia.

About this time of year, smallmouth bass also begin to feed in earnest in the New and Greenbrier rivers, two waters touted throughout the land for their fine fishing qualities.

Soon fly-rod enthusiasts will be waving their long, limber wands in all the best places for trout, so those with a notion to take up the kingly sport had better get cracking. Newcomers will be pleased to learn it won’t cost an arm and a leg to outfit them. Several local retail centers are teeming with friendly folk ready to provide information.

So, what’s your excuse?

To get out on a stream or lake in Southern West Virginia during the month of April is to find the gates of Heaven wide open.

Poets and others inclined to the romantic like to write about this time of year in the most glowing terms, describing the unfolding beauties, the rich blue sky, the warmth of the sun, white-topped clouds drifting by and dogwoods in bloom.

But there is another side of April to be reckoned with. The best way to put it: April is a fool’s paradise, beginning with All Fool’s Day and followed by daylight-saving time, which doesn’t save a stitch of time, just fools us into going to work an hour earlier.

April is the year’s court jester, a tragic figure laughed at by everyone.

And then there’s the fever itself.

A malady known as spring fever is all we must fear, and it’s such a pleasant disorder that sometimes the only remedy is to absorb the virus and enjoy every moment possible.

That, perhaps, is why fishing has such appeal.

Angling is the art of attempting to catch fish with a rod, a line, and a hook.

An ancient and honorable sport, its roots lie deep in the past. The Gospels offer several allusions to fishing, and the practice is often represented in ancient literature as having a kind of spiritual connection to mankind.

Now, as it certainly must have been in centuries past, the sport of angling is contemplative, an avocation not unworthy of consideration by those who seek to escape unnecessary diversion and distraction of the media hype.

Our own language is replete with idioms and phrases having to do with this popular art.

We’ve all heard expressions like a fish out of water; a loose fish; all is fish that comes to my net; I have other fish to fry; the best fish swim near the bottom; to drink like a fish; to fish for compliments; to fish in troubled waters.

Political news from Washington often sounds “fishy.”

The same goes for a yarn that stretches into a “fish tale.”

Anyway, you look at it, fishing has left its imprint on our collective psyche.

There’s no bad day for going fishing.

Bands of high cirrus against a brilliant deep blue sky, the rap-tap-tap of a woodpecker, the steady tug of a walleye or bass—these are welcoming signs the season has begun.

Soft, sweet perfume of spring dazzling the senses; dizzying, shimmering water and wandering white clouds; dark waters clearing with an assurance of prey; greening vines festooning freely with the promise of May.

Oh, yes, one must have a reason for it, just as each day must have a purpose.

Fishing is more than fish.

It’s witnessing a sunrise as Dawn unfolds her scarlet robes.

Fishing is being there, seeing hearing, musing.

It’s the hot mug of steaming coffee, a dragonfly riding the rod tip, the flash of a redbird, the song of wind and moving waters.

It’s all that and more.

And considering all the choices that anglers must make—where to go, what to fish for, what tackle to use, what techniques to employ—it’s a wonder that we don’t get caught up in the craze and lose our focus.

Successful fishing is the result of a fine blend of many elements, but there is no better way to deal with those elements than by doing it—fishing.

One thing that I’ve learned is that my peers, friends, and even small children often have gems of wisdom when it comes to our ancient sport.

Readers often have asked for guidance, sometimes suggesting that I divulge information and directions to favored fishing sites.

I can reply that Southern West Virginia is one of the finest of fishing places.

It features some of the best smallmouth angling in the East.

For those who would discover and explore some of this state’s vast treasury of available fishing, several streams in our area literally are swarming with citation-size fish.

Successful fishing, however, is not based solely on the size or frequency of a catch.

Success is what you choose to make it.

For some, it’s standing by the riverbank, listening to the wind’s whispers in the treetops, or wading with friends and observing a smiling evening sun go down, spreading its gold amid the forest green.

Add to that picture the spanking fresh fish hot from the skillet and a glass of iced tea and no wonder we suffer from that mysterious malady some have come to know as spring fever.

But the taking of medicine, so far, has proved a mighty pleasant chore.

That’s according to many of the veteran fly fisherman who say the streams in Southern West Virginia provide some of the best challenges when it comes to pursuing his favorite prey —trout . In early spring, anglers wield their fly rods along streams, where the sport of fly fishing won’t cost you an arm and a leg to get started. All you need to catch the wily freshwater game fish is a rod and reel that can be purchased locally at most retail outdoor centers. Trout and other species are routinely stocked in area streams by the DNR’s put-and-take program during April and May.

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