Crawling through a tunnel of overgrowth, trailing two rods behind me and my son right on my heels, my rod became snagged in the ensuing mass of brambles. I gave it a pluck which was immediately followed by a yelp! My fly had found its way to the tip of my rod, which in turn found the lobe of my son's ear. There was not much I could do to help him at the time, since we were both hemmed in, and the only way out was to either backtrack or continue forward, so I chose the latter, with him in tow on the end of my rod. I must admit, I battled to contain my laughter as I continued to creep forward, but managed to supress it sufficiently so as to not seem completely insensitive. To add further insult to injury I insisted on taking a photograph before removing the hook, but I managed to convince him that was necessary, explaining that this was one of those defining moments in flyfishing and that no fly fisherman worth his salt has not had a fly imbedded in some part of his anatomy at some point, and that this was one of those extremely photo worthy occassions. He reluctantly agreed. Fortunately, the fly was a #18 barbless and it slipped out without any further pain or further ado.
Now why do I hear everyone shouting "Shame!"
Attachment 51