April Fools Day is a favorite of mine and my wife's for different reasons. For me it's the beginning of another year of fishing and it just might be the best year ever. Anything is possible. For her, it's an opportunity to play a new practical joke on an unsuspecting fool, which would be me. Before leaving I had to give the parrot some fresh water, but Susan had wrapped the kitchen sink sprayer valve with a strong rubber band. So before the bird had his water or I had a cup of coffee, I was soaked. Her April was off to a perfect start.

I made a few casts and in five minutes I had hooked up and landed a great salmon.

I've wondered in the past about why April 1 was chosen as the opening day of the fishing season. Were our legislators having a little fun with us when they wrote the fishing laws for Maine? I've checked the early legislative record and there's no hint of a prank, but it can't be ruled out.

I put on a dry shirt and headed up to Grand Lake Stream. I was alone this morning because Ron's off chasing tornadoes in the Texas Panhandle. It's almost a three hour drive, but it's worth it. It's one of the places in Maine that you can hope to catch a fish this early. Connecting Grand Lake to Big Lake is a clear running stream that is one of the state's iconic fishing destinations. It's comfortable and easy to wade with a series of classic pools that have drawn fly fishermen to it since the 1800s. Ted Williams fished there. And Buffalo Bob Smith. The lakes will still be frozen and the water flowing through the one open gate will be icy cold. I didn't need an early start because the temperature will limit the time I can stand in the water. There were a few fat snow flakes in the air as I drove the last miles into the village. I bypassed the Pine Tree Store's free opening day coffee and headed straight to the stream. I had waited all winter.

There were quite a few cars in the lot. I walked out on the dam where I had a good view of the pool below. There were 10 fishermen in the shallow margin of the water intently casting and retrieving their flies. In 10 minutes I saw four fish landed. Wow. There is fishing. I went to the car to get suited up and wait for an opening. By the time I got on a second pair of socks and a third pair of long johns someone was coming out of the water and I asked about the fishing.

The guy had a happily dazed look on his face as he told me he had been here at dawn and he'd never seen it better. He said there must have been a 100 fish caught this morning. It was 10:30. One hundred divided by 4 1/2 hours? Well. By the time I got my waders on, my rod fit together, and a favorite streamer tied on another fisherman left the pool and entered the lot.

Without even asking, he told me it's his best opening day ever. "I've caught 49 fish this morning," he said. "That's no s--t. Unbelievable, but I can't feel my feet."

I slid down the bank through the snow. There was a slot for me at the foot of the pool. It was a good place start with plenty of room for a back cast and a polite space between me and the next guy. I made a few casts and in five minutes I had hooked up and landed a great salmon. It's thick and has had a healthy winter. His back was a subtle pattern of opalescent colors shifting between gray, green, and brown. The colors of wet early spring. Every winter there's this vague nagging fear that spring may never come and I'll never catch another fish. That fear was gone. I won't be skunked in 2013. I slipped the hook from the corner of his mouth and the fish swam away. I checked the fly. It was still in good shape and in fact, just ten minutes later it had done the trick again. Another fine fish. Things slowed a little after that, but I landed another fish before I left the water at about 12:30. Everyone caught fish.

In the parking lot a fellow chatted me up. There's a goofiness about a fisherman on opening day that reminds me of a coon dog that once killed a bunch of my chickens. It was one of my neighbor's dogs that broke free from his lead and went through my yard full of hens in short order. It's almost like drunkenness. We tried to describe and compare how cold our feet were and what a wonderful time we were having. As I got out of my vest and put my rod away another fellow approached. He wasn't in waders and didn't have a rod in hand. I asked if he'd been in the water.

"Not yet. Plenty of time. I'm busy fixing up a rental for the season. I live across the road."

"Isn't that Bob Upman's place?"

"I bought it from Bob last December, lucky for me I just happened along when he decided to sell. He moved out to Nevada to be close to his son."

"No kidding? I was looking for him. He's usually around on opening day keeping an eye on things. He'd walk his dogs, stop and talk like he'd been waiting all winter to see you again. I never saw him fish on opening day, just him and his dogs strolling and passing the time with the fishermen. I think he saved himself for those perfect summer evenings when there was a good hatch and the fish were rising. You can pick your spots if you live across the road."

"I'm hoping for a lot of evenings like that. I just started fly fishing a year ago. I was a bass fisherman, but I came here once last year and was hooked. People have been friendly and taught me a lot in a year. What a place."

"It is that."

I guess I've had some of the same dreams. A cabin by a perfect stream. Warm summer nights where even an old guy can catch a fish.

I left Frank, the lucky new resident of Grand Lake Stream, and headed to the store for a sandwich and some hot coffee. A few folks came through the store with grins and shared enthusiasm while my sandwich was being fixed. Everyone was warmed and in high spirits. To keep us in check someone pointed out that 49 fish was a pretty good day, but it wasn't the record. I asked the owner about Bob. He said that before he left Bob had given him all his fly tying material. His address was posted over on the wall. I wondered what Bob Upman would be thinking about out there in Nevada on opening day in Maine?

I fished for a couple more hours. That was about all the cold I needed. I caught one more nice fish and missed a couple. Things had slowed down quite a bit. The fish must have been exhausted, but they had kept up their end of the bargain. Maybe it was some kind of record for them, too. I decided to hit the road and catch the last few innings of opening day for the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium. Listening to the Red Sox with Joe Castiglione's familiar voice on the radio was part of the deal. "Hello Joe. How was your winter?" It turned out things were going well for him and the Sox, too. Even Jose Iglesias, the skinny young shortstop who's never hit his weight had three hits. John Lester pitched well and the Red Sox won. They were perfect for the season, one win and no losses. Maybe they could go 162-0. Anything's possible.

Rick Cronin fishes in Maine and will be reporting on why the big ones got away, here, in the Pen Bay Pilot.

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