Naturally the guide, a Catskill flyfishing veteran named Mark Malenovsky, thought he had a couple of yahoos in the boat as we set off downstream. Then he saw Merwin make a cast. Even with a stiff wind, Merwin was rolling out 60 feet of line as effortlessly as an artist making brushstrokes on canvas. Malenovsky said that Merwin was possibly the best fly caster he'd ever had on board, and I, of course, was eating my words. This got worse when I started casting, first snapping the guide's fly rod (sorry, Mark), then throwing one tailing loop after another, which is my specialty. "Hey Sid," Merwin said, cackling from the back of the boat, "the fish are over there."