Two days ago I was 24 and I bought my first fly rod but then I woke up this morning and I am 41 and the bag boy at the market called me Sir. I think I just caught that creek chub drifting a nymph through a stocked stream but two days ago I didn’t have a blog or even email so the hookset lives only in my head. There must be scores of fish likewise undocumented. Or maybe not. Most of them are likely spun several stages down the carbon cycle by now, having met their fate via age, other fish or other anglers on the way. Worse, there are tens of thousands that didn’t and still don’t swim past my fly and…