Info: News-press outdoors writer Byron Stout retiring

Thanks for the privilege by Byron Stout
It has been a fantastic 24 years, 10 months and five days (I've actually been using the fisherman's prerogative of rounding that up to 25 years) but it's time to say goodbye. I'm retiring.
Writing outdoor columns for The News-Press has been the longest I've ever worked for any company by about 23 years, and it's been a great ride. My predecessor, the inimitable Bill Miller, had a 27-year run as outdoor editor of this paper, and I always knew I'd never match that mark. But I'm surprised I ended up so close.
Not long after I started the job I was interviewing a trio of Punta Gorda retirees, one of whom had been the outdoor writer for the paper in his hometown, up North. He asked me what I did for a living, and I told him he was looking at it - I was an outdoor writer.
"No, no," he said. "What do you really do? For a living?" 
 
http://www.news-press.com/article/20091209/COLUMNISTS09/912090376/1010/SPORTS
 
 
He was stunned that outdoor writing could be an actual paid position, having been in it strictly for perks such as guided fishing trips and free lures. There is an old joke in the outdoor industry about the outdoor writer's handshake - an upturned palm.
The News-Press has always frowned upon such stuff, expecting me to live up to the highest standards of journalism. I've tried, but there have been slip-ups.
The worst probably was at the state Capitol in 1988, to report on the decision to make red drum a game fish, with no commercial sale. The atmosphere was electric (bordering on explosive), with recreational proponents of game fish status wearing red ballcaps on one side of the filled-to-bursting Cabinet meeting room, and bus loads of commercial fishermen wearing green ballcaps on the other.
I was in the press row up front, where someone from the then-Florida Conservation Association passed out red hats. I accepted one as a souvenir, as did everyone else from the press - recreational fishing reporters all. So it was embarrassing when one of the commercial fishing opponents to game fish status testified that his side had never gotten a fair shake from the press, and pointed to the row of red hats as evidence. Even so, that hat remains one of my most cherished mementos.
One of my regrets is that commercial fishermen always have claimed I was against them, particularly during the statewide campaigns to constitutionally ban gillnets in 1994, and the 1998 campaign to constitutionally unify Florida's freshwater and saltwater fisheries management. I actually have never been against commercial fishing - only some of the industry's tactics, including lawsuits that continually thwarted conservation measures proposed by state fishery managers.
Somewhere in there, I got picketed, which, as far as I know, is a historic distinction among The News-Press columnists.
I know, as a matter of balance, that I've made a lot of recreational fishing guides mad by giving away techniques and fishing spots they seemed to regard as their own. But that's been my job, and I've always believed that the greater success people have at fishing, the more they would love it, and the more they'd fight to protect the natural resources that belong to us all. The corollary to that theory being, take a kid fishing.
In my writing I've always tried to put Florida's natural resources first. And that's my last word on that.
Except for this one other thing. Federal fisheries management is an unholy mess, with misguided and overzealous environmental forces trying to shut down recreational angling, which has always been the life's blood of fisheries conservation. So please pay attention to that foolishness and take an activist role.
Also, remember that old Western adage, "Whiskey is for drinkin', and water is for fightin' over." Water management is an incredibly dry and complex subject, but Southwest Florida's magnificent estuaries are most threatened not by overharvesting, but by the mining, agricultural and urban interests that routinely deprive them of the water needed for their very life's blood. So pay attention to water wars.
My work has been my introduction to some pretty famous people, including President Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter and President George H.W. Bush, who all shared a love of fishing that I've found over the years is often the trait of a good heart.
I never fished with a man who was more enthusiastic about his sport than Roland Martin, unless it was Lee Majors. Although the latter's sport definitely wasn't fishing.
One thing I unsuccessfully tried to write about for almost my entire career was the thrill of catching a billfish. That of course necessitates actually catching a marlin, swordfish or sailfish, and I stared blindly at boat wakes, fishing kites and marine toilets for days totaling weeks, from the Dry Tortugas to Puerto Rico, trying my gonzo-journalistic best to bring you that first-person story.
I'm only able to retire because my friend Scott Carter pulled that off for me this year, with a sailfish off Miami. I've looked over the shoulders of too many other great fishermen, guides and scientists to name, for fear of leaving out the most deserving, but I thank them all.
I also thank the deer, turkeys, hogs, squirrels, snook, tarpon and even the 63-pound amberjack that necessitated three weeks of physical therapy on my neck. It's been a heck of a way to make a living, but as they say, somebody had to do it.
So I thank you, dear readers, for the privilege.
Just FYI, I'll still be doing the online and Friday fishing reports for the paper, so keep those e-mails and pictures coming.
And, um, just one more thing. I'm working on a book you'll be able to buy, if you haven't had quite enough of me yet. Stay tuned, and in the spirit of the season:
Best fishes to all, and to all a good fight!