This is a neat little book, The Brook Trout and the Determined Angler. It’s something you might find on a musty bookshelf at your grandparents’ cabin in the woods.
As the game strikes, the angler strikes, hooking the fish swiftly but delicately by a simple turn of the wrist. The trout is not flaunted up in the air by force, as some coarse perch fishermen lift their catch. The trout fisher does not use his arm at all in hooking a trout, beyond aiding the hand in holding the rod for the wrist to do the work. A practiced trout man can secure his fish by moving his hand five inches a little backward nervous twist of the wrist.
Reminds me of those times I have struck too enthusiastically, sending a poor brookie flying. Here are some more:
I fished three hours, in which time I received exactly two hundred and fifteen strikes; eighteen, as I have said, proved killing.
To well convince you that the casts I made were difficult, I will say that my line became fastened in twigs, leaves, and bushes every other toss.
When my slender rod-tip moved over the water and the leader with the flies went down gently upon the surface, the trout thought (all animals think) the wind had stirred the frail branch of an adjacent tree and swept into the water upon a cobweb three insects for their feeding. Four rushed for the deceit and two were hooked quietly and quickly.