I’ll never be a millionaire by John C. Street
 
Having come relatively close a couple times, I have an inkling of what it must take.  And I can say without equivocation, I don’t have what it takes.  There’s a big difference between enjoying something to the point of being pretty good at it and having the skill to make that something your livelihood.
 
With five plus decades of hunting and fishing under my belt, however, there isn’t much I haven’t at least tried.  From ducks to deer, trout to turkey and fly rods to flippin’ sticks, if it’s done in the woods or on the water, I’ve probably not only done it but done it enough of it to understand the sacrifices that would have to be made to become really good.
 
Out of all the things I’ve tried, I’ve stayed with a few and I do them relatively well.  For instance, I’ve been tying flies since I was a young kid so I’ve been at the business of wrapping fur and feathers onto hooks for something like fifty years.  As I said, I do it rather well, have taught others to do it and even made a few sheckles at it when I was in my thirties.  But a professional I’m not.
 
A professional fly tier spends enormous amounts of time sitting at a vice; a minimum of forty hours a week, probably more in the months when many of us are out in the woods chasing game.  And when they’re not tying, they’re either looking for material, sorting material or preparing material so that every minute at the vice is productive.  Fly production is counted in the gross – a dozen dozen – and that’s not even a full day’s worth of tying.  I don’t tie that many flies a year.
 
I’ve also been, as fellow writer, John Gierach, once said, “standing in a river waving a stick” for the better part of fifty years and can say without the slightest immodesty I can do it – fly fish – rather well.  I’ve even taught others to fly fish and, on occasion, guided some out-of-towners to some of our local water.
 
I spoke to a man last week who is a legitimate guide and he related some of his horror stories.  It reminded me that not everyone who waves a stick while standing in running water is a fun person to spend time with and why I would never be able to make my living as a guide.  There’s probably nothing wrong with throwing a boor in the river but you can’t expect to get paid for doing it.
 
A working guide, on the other hand, must take whatever comes through the door, regardless of their skill level and particularly regardless of their behavior.  And when they’re not actually guiding, they’re either drumming up business, tying flies for their clients (that all too often end up in a streamside tree due to an errant back cast) or repairing gear.  There’s precious little time left to be an active participant in the very activity that sparked their interest in the first place. 
 
Many years ago when I lived and worked in that big football town south of here, I fell in with a group of people who trucked their dogs all over the continental United States to participate in field trials.  They were all members of a national organization that promoted the all-around hunting ability of the “versatile” breeds (dogs that would hunt fur or feathers) and the group of fellows who took me under their wing were accustomed to bringing home fancy trinkets and pretty colored ribbons.  In short, they had some mighty fine dogs.
 
After I’d gotten to know them they started using me as an extra “handler” and I got mighty fond of some of their dogs, especially a breed known as Puddlepointers (I believe they were a cross between a German wirehair and a giant puddle) that were being bred up in Canada.  And before long I was attending the field trials and handling some of their dogs.
 
One day I asked how these field trial dogs did in the bush and the gentleman I was with explained that his dog had never been used for anything but trials.  What with all the club meetings, running a kennel, training his own – and other people’s - dogs and attending trials, he didn’t have time to hunt anymore.  He had a whole room full of trophies, though.
 
Got to be that I was a pretty fair handler and thought I knew a thing or two about training dogs, maybe even enough to make a living at it.  I’ve got two dogs right now, however, who have dissuaded me from this notion.  The only thing they can hunt up on a consistent basis is their food dish and even that is nip and tuck.
 
Was a time when I was a half decent skeet shooter, too, and thought maybe if I’d just apply myself, I might be able to bring home some of those fancy trinkets and pretty colored ribbons.  But then I talked with some of the guys who were bringing home the bacon on a regular basis and found out that, in order to stay competitive, they did an awful lot of shooting … and danged little hunting.
 
I read one time that the only difference between a self-made millionaire and people like me is that the millionaire spends every waking hour thinking about or doing things to make money.  It’s probably safe to say I’ll never be a millionaire.
 
And that’s OK.  I wouldn’t trade my hunting and fishing, not even for a million dollars.