FALL 2025 CHOICE STREAMERS: CATNIP AND ITS TRUE(ISH) ORIGINS -- A TALE OF GOOD AND EVIL
By A.M. Giacoletto
Water spills over the tarp roof propped up by lodgepole pillars cut and carved by a bone knife crafted from a dead bison. Weight of the dropping and collected rain sags its center as gravity yanks it over the frayed edge forming a valley before its fall. Inside, a hairy, bearded man sits on a stump with a piece of bologna lathered in ketchup dangling from his mouth as he chews and slurps it down his throat while both hands engage in the act of divine creation. Weaves, wraps, and warping occur with each turn of the bobbin while he manipulates materials with the hands of an angel called by God to enact divine purpose, for he ministers on behalf of a higher power onto the trout of creation.
Hobo Steve draws energy deep from within to elucidate the fly that destiny itself christened him to manifest for the betterment of mankind and anglers everywhere. At the doorstep of the world’s largest active super-valcano, thunder and lightning crash through the atmosphere under the blanket of black storm clouds. The enchantment of his newest Blue Line Co. streamer, the Catnip, is nigh. Whiter than snow with tangerine orange eyes, Ser Hobo Steve of the Crimson Tide infuses his magnum opus with the power to impersonate a whitefish in the river named for the great volcano, a haven for what is known as “the bonefish of the Rocky Mountains.” Such white-silver, tiny mouthed creatures serve to the beastly brown trout as a fine, protein rich meal, which causes their growth to reach immense size, so their capture may be appointed worthy of song when conquered by a noble fisherman in shining waders.
If one’s rod is proclaimed a sword, then with the Catnip their sharpened tip is made, for no one can deny the lethality of Hobo Steve’s creation powered by the cosmos.
Upon a white stallion, dressed in leather studded armor, bearing his family crest on his chest featuring a kitten in sunglasses leaned back strumming Jeff Beck’s 1954 “Oxblood” Gibson Les Paul, he rides into glorious conquest for king, country, and Blue Line to plant his flag on the wild reaches of Montana’s wilderness on behalf of the weak, sick, afflicted, disenfranchised, Wyoming Cowboys football fans, and the underprivileged with a seven weight rod – perfect for casting such enchantments – residing in his right manus en route to glorious, aquatic battle.
Hooves clamp the Earth and his hair lifts and falls in slow motion as his supernatural abilities grant him a defiance of gravity. Even the laws of physics bend to the will of Hobo Steve.
Upon the log jam below the white rapid of roaring waves descending from the highest of countries, the monster resides within his sunken layer. Throaty chants and echoes of deep drum rhythms boom as creatures near and far gather for the battle of a generation.
The angry, fierce brown trout boasts a scar across its left eye from a battle with an osprey, a bird of prey he managed to turn the turntables against and devour instead, or so the story goes.
He snarls at our great champion, “Ergh! You have no p-power here, so-called guardian of peace, protector of the realm, and hero of the homeless!”
Beard waving in the breeze and with a lift of his right eyebrow, Hobo Steve chuckles and retorts, “Ha! Evil has no place here, foul creature!” The white stallion, his noble steed neighs and lifts its front legs while Hobo Steve lifts his sword – rod – to the heavens and a streak of lighting flashes across the sky as if God himself proclaims the party of which he endorses; “Hear this: I shall not rest, nor sleep, nor eat, nor tarry in a garden of comfort ‘til I net-eth thee!” proclaims the rider on the white steed.
“Rawr!” another snarl bellows from the brown and gold salmonic monster’s chest, “Your arrogance will be your downfall!”
“And your pledge to evil is yours!”
With a thrust of his tail, the brown trout unrelentingly plunged to the depths to gather a dark power in opposition to the bearded man’s crusade. With a lift, haul, and cast the white articulated streamer sails through the sky to the hum of singing angels who bestow their protection upon the mighty Hobo Steve. Upon its landing, he strips, jerks, strips, and the enchanted fly dances, darts, and yaws to the degree it baffles, fools, and bamboozles the likes of the monster who strikes the fly in anger.
“Argh!” The monster brown screams with rage when he realizes the hook sits buried in his jaw. He leaps, pulls, and thrusts against the knighted angler, but he eventually forfeits to the great Hobo Steve – he knows he’s bested by a noble champion.
And so it is that Hobo Steve’s actions are of legend and thus began an age of glory as our great warrior of homelessness travels streamsides saving the world one giant fish at a time, and now we bring you the magic piece of his great heroics – the fly that vanquishes evil and hooks possessed brown trout in styles of whitefish and sculpin. The fly that embarks on a holy quest of virtue and good: the Catnip.
