It's not just a philosophy - catch, revive and release

What I see on too many YouTube videos makes me wince.

Some of the trout, I'm sure, don't survive. Most of them probably make it, despite the rough handling they're subjected to. Wild trout are hearty creatures, but still, they're deserving of our respect. They deserve - and require, if they're to remain viable when subjected to natural stresses and unnatural fishing pressure - informed and responsible handling that will give them an optimal chance of survival.

I've written comments in response to some of those videos. One led to an email exchange and a long-distance friendship with the YouTuber.

This young man made a serious effort to explain what he was doing and edit his footage to spin a narrative about fishing a hike-in stream in the Western Sierras. He showed how to carefully handle and release most of the many beautiful native trout he caught, and how to efficiently kill and eat a couple of them. His whole attitude was reverent.

And in the setting he was fishing, the notion of harvesting a couple of trout for the singular experience of being nourished by their flesh didn't offend me at all.

Nature operates on a dynamic series of interconnected shortages and surpluses. This young videographer harvested from a surplus in water that is abundant with wild trout and seldom fished. In that setting, he was a hunter-gatherer and for a moment, a predator.

Another video led to a vitriol-laced exchange with a guy who was unyielding in his defense of what he was doing to the trout and the resources.

To his credit, his photography was professional-grade and captured the aesthetic sense of what you'd see and experience if you fished there. Here's what it's really like, I thought.

But when he'd hook a small trout, yank it out of the water and dangle it in the air and swipe at it with his net like it was a butterfly, I winced. I winced again when he held the trout out of the water for an unconscionable length of time, gills gasping in front of the camera for extra-long seconds and then casually slid it back into the water, barely able to swim off. He did it again and again, everywhere he fished.

This was an extreme case. Other videos exhibit careless release methods practiced by people who think they are doing the right thing. Occasionally you see somebody doing it right. That tells me that those of us in the profession, either as outdoor writers or fishing guides or fly shop owners, have to do a better job of getting the word out to the public.

We need to re-frame our rhetoric, be sure we know what we're doing and practice what we preach.

An adventurous woman, Kynslee Scott, leads the way. Her website opens with the quote, "Since 2008, I've dedicated myself to my career and protecting our natural resources." She guides steelhead in Washington during the fall and trout in local rivers during the summer. She is active in state and national conservation efforts.

She recently participated in a panel hosted by the Bitterroot Water Partnership. She spoke to what anglers can do to make a stand against declining trout populations in the Bitterroot River. KynsLee and I share a special concern for the Bitterroot's native Westslope Cutthroat trout population. Montana Fish Wildlife & Parks data reveals that over the past few years the cutthroat population has declined by roughly 40%.

Let that sink in.

So what can we do?

Fish barbless. Use enough rod and be forceful with it. Get the fish in, use a rubber, silicone or other smooth material landing net and keep the fish in the water while unhooking and photographing. Or if you lift it out for a photo, remember: quick grin, back in.

To revive, hold the fish facing upstream in gentle current for as long as it takes for the dorsal fin to regain its turgor, signaling that the lactic acid built up during the fight has dissipated. Cradle the fish gently with one hand behind the pectoral fins and the other making a firm grip just up from the tail.

When the fish shows that dorsal fin flag and the normal respiration of easy, rhythmic gill movement has returned, watch the fish swim off, fully under its own power.

When it does, you've done your job well.