THE WEEKLY HATCHERY SCOOP
“Well now, look at this, hatcheries barely ticklin’ the creekbeds. Beaver Creek, a thousand measly fish? Cowlitz almost there, but still pathetic. Bogachiel’s got some spirit but ain’t nothin’ like the runs I seen back when dinosaurs wore flannel. Humptulips? Ha! Hawking coulda predicted that with a chalk drawing.
Pro Tip: Find the wild spawners. Hatchery fish taste like tin.
What’s Bitin: My patience. And probably those stupid hatchery coho on pellet food.
Grandpa’s Grumble: In my day, we wrestled salmon for respect. Now they just swim in like sad sacks. The end is coming, I tells ya. Now where’s my berries?
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