The Merits of Fly Fishing: A Conversation with Peter Kaminsky
The author, angler, and conservation advocate shares why fly fishing continues to inspire him—and why anglers must have a voice in conservation.
Few people can capture the magic of fly fishing like Peter Kaminsky. The celebrated author, journalist, and lifelong angler has spent decades chasing fish across the globe—and championing the waters and habitats they call home. In this exclusive TRCP conversation, Kaminsky shares the captivating story of how he fell in love with fly fishing, the ways it has shaped his life, and why anglers have a critical role to play in conservation. Whether you’re a seasoned fly fisher or just wondering if the sport might be for you, his reflections are as inspiring as they are insightful.
For more than three decades, Kaminsky contributed to the New York Times Outdoors column and has served as a contributing editor to Field & Stream, Sports Afield, and Outdoor Life. His books—including The Moon Pulled Up an Acre of Bass and The Catch of a Lifetime—blend storytelling, personal reflections, and a deep respect for the natural world. His newest release, The Zen of Flyfishing (2025), captures the joy and meaning he’s found in the sport through essays, quotes, and stunning imagery.
Credit: William Hereford
In our latest conversation, Kaminsky reflected on his journey into fly fishing, the restorative qualities of time on the water, and the role anglers play in sustaining healthy fisheries. He also shared some interesting history about Theodore Roosevelt’s uncle, another outdoorsman who inspired the future president’s conservation ethos.
Credit: Jared Zissu
Finding a Calling on the Water
Peter Kaminsky’s first encounter with fly fishing was clearly transformative. On a trip to Mexico in the 1970s, he watched veteran anglers casting in the surf and felt an instant connection—what he calls “the hour I first believed.” Back in New York, he sought instruction from legendary fly fisherman Doug Swisher and never looked back.
Since then, fly fishing has been a grounding force in both good times and bad. “It’s the thing I return to in the rough times,” he says, describing how the sport can suspend time and bring peace. Hear his account of how during a period of personal hardship, while fishing Idaho’s Silver Creek, he found both solace and perspective: “It showed me you don’t have to feel miserable all the time – there’s a sunny side.”
Credit: Andrew Burr
Conservation, Connection, and Responsibility
Kaminsky has fished around the world, from trout streams in the Rockies to bonefish flats in the Yucatán, but remains deeply connected to the waters near home—especially the striped bass fishery along the Atlantic Coast. He’s witnessed the boom-and-bust cycles of striper populations and warns that current challenges, from depleted menhaden stocks to degraded spawning habitat in the Chesapeake Bay, demand action.
For him, conservation isn’t about moral superiority; it’s about ensuring the future of the resource. And wherever you stand on the practice of catch and release fishing, you’ll want to hear his wisdom on the matter.
“Everything gets eaten in this world,” he says. “It’s just a question of who’s eating it and when.”
Credit: Rex Messing
Passing It On
Kaminsky also takes inspiration from conservation history, noting the influence of Theodore Roosevelt’s uncle, Robert Barnhill Roosevelt, in shaping America’s fish and game management. He sees that legacy as a call to keep our lands and waters “green and bountiful” for the next generation.
For those curious about fly fishing for the first time, his advice is simple: get casting lessons. “Seek out someone with the patience to teach you,” he says. “The investment will pay off.”
TRCP’s “In the Arena” series highlights the individual voices of hunters and anglers who, as Theodore Roosevelt so famously said, strive valiantly in the worthy cause of conservation.
Amy Siewe
Hometown:: Kettering, Ohio Occupation: Professional python hunter and guide in South Florida Conservation credentials: Siewe has dedicated her life and career to the capture and removal of invasive Burmese pythons, endemic to Southeast Asia but wreaking havoc on native wildlife in the Everglades. She not only offers guided hunts and goes after snakes on her own – which can top out at almost 19 feet long – but assists researchers working to tag and release male “scout snakes” with transmitters to help find breeding-age females and their nests. Siewe also helps raise money for conservation and other nonprofit efforts, having brought in nearly $600,000 through charity-auctioned hunts for organizations including Rookery Bay National Estuarine Reserve and The Alliance for Florida’s National Parks.
“Python Huntress” Amy Siewe is one of those rare individuals who pursue their passion for an unlikely dream and find phenomenal success. Growing up exposed to wild snakes, she was always drawn to and fasciniated by the reptiles, and later became a volunteer at the Toledo Zoo in college, as well as an exotic pet breeder and educator. She eventually moved into a 13-year, more comfortable career in real estate in the Midwest. Then she began to see news coverage of Burmese python hunts in the Everglades. These incredibly successful apex predators, which were first detected in Florida in the late ‘70s, have since become the invasive wildlife species of top concern in the Everglades.
Six years ago, Siewe took a vacation to see if she could capture one of the invasive pythons. After catching her first snake (a nine-footer), she was hooked, and resolved then and there to do whatever it took to spend her days – and nights – chasing after the evasive predators across South Florida. She walked away from her real estate business and headed to the subtropical U.S. to start a business guiding clients as the Python Huntress, since featured in stories with The New York Times, National Geographic, Time Magazine, and CNN. Working for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission and in her own business, she has captured more than 600 snakes as one of the best-known python hunters in the state.
Here is her story.
My dad instilled in me a deep appreciation and respect for nature, teaching me from a young age how to catch and admire all kinds of creatures. From the moment I saw my first snake, I was captivated. That fascination only grew, leading me to a lifelong passion for catching, studying, and even breeding these incredible reptiles.
My passion for snakes is what makes me excel at my job. I have tremendous respect for the Burmese python, but I also have immense respect for Florida’s delicate ecosystems. The reality is clear — these invasive predators must be removed, as there is no alternative. I capture them and ensure they are euthanized in the most humane way possible. It’s not their fault they are here, but protecting our native wildlife means making the tough but necessary choice.
One of my most memorable outdoor adventures happened one night when I was alone in my truck. I spotted a small part of a python pattern in the grass at the tree line. I jumped out and followed the pattern a couple of feet up to its head — the biggest I had ever seen. The rest of its body was hidden, but I knew it was a monster. I only had a small 6-by-6-inch black drawstring bag. (In the veterinary and pet world, we would cover an animal’s head or eyes to calm it down.) I looked at the bag and looked at the snake… questioned my sanity… and jumped on it!
Somehow, I managed to slip the bag over its head—and just like that, the battle was over. It stopped fighting and was completely subdued. Turns out, it was 17’3” long and 110 lbs. (GoPro video here; warning, contains profanities.) That was an unforgettable catch!
“My office is the Everglades. I get to work in one of the most diverse and beautiful places on earth.”
There’s nowhere I’d rather be than hunting invasive pythons right here in South Florida. There is no greater thrill for me than capturing massive pythons. They’re incredibly difficult to find, which makes the moment of discovery an adrenaline rush — and the catch even more exhilarating. While my journey to Florida began with the excitement of hunting these giants, I quickly came to understand the devastating impact they’ve had on the ecosystem. In some areas of the Everglades, pythons have wiped out a full 98 percent of the mammal population (including deer, raccoons, and opossums), leaving a once thriving habitat in crisis.
Photo Credit: Sophia Bolivar
My office is the Everglades. I get to work in one of the most diverse and beautiful places on earth, catching the giant constrictors and helping to save our precious everglades in a life that I didn’t know existed, until I did. I couldn’t do that if people didn’t care about conservation. So conservation not only benefits our wild places, but also makes my work possible.
“In some areas of the Everglades, pythons have wiped out a full 98 percent of the mammal population.”
Burmese pythons are a major conservation challenge. They thrive in an environment that is 97 percent inaccessible to humans. You can’t simply walk into the swamp and expect to find them. Instead, we rely on spotting them as they cross roads and levees. Adding to the difficulty, these snakes remain motionless for nearly 85 percent of their lives. Their intricate patterns offer a perfect camouflage in this environment. Every one of these factors makes finding them an incredible challenge.
In Florida, we have over 500 non-native plants and animals, with pythons being the most destructive wildlife species. If we don’t find a solution, our native mammals could face extinction. Losing even one native species from the ecosystem sets off a domino effect, leading to catastrophic changes down the line.
This has implications for the next generation of hunters and outdoor users. If invasive species go unchecked, native wildlife will vanish, leaving Florida overrun by non-native creatures that don’t belong. The ecosystem will be forever altered, and Florida will no longer be the place it was meant to be.
Hands-On Event Exposes Students to Outdoor Recreation, Conservation Career Paths
MOA Fest, offered at locations around the country by TRCP partner Minority Outdoor Alliance, teaches hunting, fishing, and conservation skills and ideals
Earlier this month I was able to join one of our partner organizations, Minority Outdoor Alliance, for their annual MOA Fest. This festival has been held in various states throughout the country, including Texas, Alabama, and earlier this month, Pennsylvania.
The event is designed to allow college students who have had limited or no exposure to hunting, fishing, and outdoor recreation the opportunity to explore activities and careers in the outdoor and conservation space. Students are given the freedom to try new activities such as mountain biking, clay shooting, and rappelling. This year I watched as students from Temple University and Bucks County Community College kayaked, drew compound bows, and cast fly rods for the first time. Students were also able to participate in a community service project – planting and caging native trees in a local park. The setting was ideal to talk about conservation issues in Pennsylvania, where TRCP unifies the voices of hunters, anglers, and conservationists around key initiatives and works to ensure clean water, enhanced fisheries, and better public access and opportunities.
A student at MOA Fest 2024 learns how to shoot a compound bow. Credit: Carlina Croston
Husband and wife team and co-founders, Durrell and Ashley Smith, started the Minority Outdoor Alliance in the summer of 2020, and soon after offered the first MOA Fest.
“We are incredibly grateful to our dedicated sponsors and partners for making MOA Fest a reality each year,” said MOA President Durrell Smith. “The goals of the festival are unity and expanding the capacity of the host agency by serving as a bridge to connect younger and broader audiences with recreation opportunities and career opportunities in the outdoors.”
Durrell and Ashley Smith started the Minority Outdoor Alliance in summer 2020. Credit: MOA
“Watching students ask questions about how their current educational paths could intersect with the conservation industry was exciting to see.”
While it is always thrilling for students to watch a bird dog demonstration or to learn to cook wild game, MOA also expands participants’ ideas about what it takes to work in conservation and the outdoors. Many of the students who attend MOA Fest each year are from urban areas where spending time in the outdoors may not have been a focal point of their childhoods. When asked what types of careers they think are available, many are surprised to hear that they do not have to be park rangers or biologists to succeed.
The career fair portion of MOA Fest is an opportunity for the local state agencies and partner organizations to let students know about the various professional options available to them. Watching students ask questions about how their current educational paths could intersect with the conservation industry was exciting to see. Law majors discovered there is plenty of work to do in policy at all levels of government and communications majors heard about the teams at various agencies that are dedicated to sharing information across every platform. Facilitating conversations about their ability to protect our environment in diverse ways, early on in these students’ degree paths, may lead some to careers in the outdoors that they may never have considered if not exposed to an event like MOA Fest.
“The unity and diversity we witness at MOA Fest are reminders that the outdoors is a place for all to cherish.”
Durrell Smith, MOA president
What truly makes MOA Fest unique is the focus on underrepresented communities in the outdoor space. Students who have spent their lives in urban areas, with no regular exposure to all the great outdoors have to offer, are often shocked at the number of careers that are available. Being able to actively and effectively interact with this community of students is an asset to the outdoor and conservation space. Their unique perspectives and experiences will do nothing but enhance our collective ability to think nimbly and critically about issues central to our mission as we move into the future of conservation.
Students had the opportunity to experience kayaking at MOA Fest 2024. Credit: Carlina Croston
MOA has created a space where students are free to ask questions, try new things, and network with industry professionals across the conservation and outdoor industry. Their dedication to making the outdoors accessible to everyone and their goal of “Uniting Communities for Joy and Conservation” is truly embodied in this important event.
“MOA believes in the unity of humanity and in fostering authentic connections through shared experiences in the natural world,” Durrell shared with me. “The joy of seeing individuals connect with dogs, sporting traditions, and conservation leadership reaffirms our mission and fills us with pride. The unity and diversity we witness at MOA Fest are reminders that the outdoors is a place for all to cherish and a place for collective care and stewardship.”
For more information about MOA and events it offers, click here.
Banner image of Durrell Smith with bird dog credit MOA.
TRCP’s “In the Arena” series highlights the individual voices of hunters and anglers who, as Theodore Roosevelt so famously said, strive valiantly in the worthy cause of conservation.
Paul Dixon
Hometown: East Hampton, N.Y. Occupation: Saltwater fly fishing guide who owns Dixon’s To The Point Charters, offering fly fishing for stripers and bluefish off Montauk, N.Y., and for bonefish, permit, and tarpon in the Florida Keys. Conservation credentials: Dixon is a past board member and current Advisory Council member of the conservation nonprofit Bonefish & Tarpon Trust (BTT) – a TRCP partner – and is responsible for helping to raise millions of dollars for marine conservation efforts. He has long been a vocal champion for striped bass conservation.
Captain Paul Dixon is nothing less than a star in the guiding space in Montauk, off the east end of Long Island, and in the Florida Keys. He essentially wrote the book on sight fishing for striped bass in the Northeastern U.S. and is the main character in author Peter Kaminsky’s celebrated 2002 book The Moon Pulled Up an Acre of Bass. Dixon has been featured on ESPN’s fishing shows Guide House: Montauk, The Walker’s Cay Chronicles and Spanish Fly; in the Millhouse Podcast; and in articles in The New York Times, Outdoor Life, The Miami Herald, New York (Magazine), Salt Water Sportsman, and Field and Stream. Dixon’s client list has included such celebrity anglers as Roger Waters (the bassist for Pink Floyd) and renowned Florida fisherman Flip Pallot. He’s Orvis-endorsed and named among the top 50 charter captains by Salt Water Sportsman. Perhaps most importantly, he’s used his considerable influence in angling circles to forward fish conservation efforts. In 2021 he was given the Izaak Walton Award from the American Museum of Fly Fishing, and in 2022, BTT bestowed him the Lefty Kreh Award for Lifetime Achievement in Conservation.
Here is his story.
Dixon poling as an angler releases a striper. Credit: The Anglers Lens
My mother put me on a dock with a dropline on Balboa Island in California when I was three years old. Almost every weekend I spent on a head boat in Southern California or in a duck blind.
My whole family was steeped in hunting and fishing. As a lieutenant in the Air Force, my father was stationed in Alaska. His job was to open up fishing camps for the officers stationed on the Distant Early Warning (DEW) Line [of Cold War radar stations] in 1952. He opened up the first camps in the Brooks Range on the Nac Nac River. My grandfather was a member of the Catalina Island Tuna Club in the 1930s and had his own duck club in Palmdale, Calif. He fished with author Zane Grey and singer Bing Crosby. So I grew up with great stories of outdoor adventures and dreamed of creating my own.
When I graduated from high school I was offered a job at the Wild Rose Ranch on Henry’s Lake in Idaho. Upon arrival the old timers told me, “We don’t spin fish here, kid. We fly fish,” and so the passion began. I had no nearby rivers or lakes so I began fly fishing in saltwater. I moved east in the mid-80s with the dream of opening my own fly fishing business and began Dixon’s Sporting Life, a fly fishing store in East Hampton, N.Y. I bought a flats skiff and began chasing striped bass.
“My biggest concern currently is that striped bass, again, are being depleted from all the commercial and recreational overfishing of the last 20 years.”
I have so many great memories of outdoor adventures with my father and family, but the most recent memories with my own sons come to mind. Notably, my son Andrew’s first tarpon, after 30 minutes and 10 jumps, came off, and Andrew says, “Damn they’re strong. I’m sort of glad he came off.” Recently, my oldest son, Austen, came striper fishing with me, and he caught 10 fish by 8:30 a.m., all of them over 30 pounds — a truly biblical morning.
Dixon’s son, Austen, with a Long Island striped bass. Credit: Paul Dixon
I have fished in many wonderful places all over the world, but I have not yet fished in Alaska. After hearing throughout my young life of fishing in Alaska from my father, I have harbored the dream of going there myself, with my own sons, and now have planned a trip for August 2025.
Dixon releasing a tarpon in the Florida Keys. Credit: Paul Dixon
I got involved with conservation when I moved east and realized that my dream fish, the striped bass, had been fished out. By the time that I opened my store in the early ’90s, the striped bass came roaring back after a 10-year fishing moratorium, one of the greatest conservation success stories in America. In a short period of time, however, the regulations started changing and, slowly but surely, you could see the effects on the fishery. I started going to fishery hearings to voice my concern about the fate of stripers and have been fighting the battle ever since. My ongoing conservation efforts are a way of preserving the fishery that has brought so much pleasure and excitement to my life for so many decades.
Dixon holding stripers for clients. Credit: Paul Dixon
For a long time, the biggest conservation challenge in our area was the restoration of the menhaden, which were being decimated by the factory ships. To deal the problem, the ships were outlawed from fishing in New York’s state waters. The recovery of menhaden was quickly evident from the abundance of whales, sharks, bass, and dolphin that were now feeding on menhaden up and down the coast. My biggest concern currently is that striped bass, again, are being depleted from all the commercial and recreational overfishing of the last 20 years.
Dixon with a bonefish on the flats in the Keys. Credit: Paul Dixon
It’s imperative for those of us who really love to hunt and fish to become involved in the preservation of the natural world. When I was 15 years old, I went with my father on a long-range fishing trip in search of albacore, 100 miles offshore. Leaving the harbor, my father said, “I remember when I used to catch albacore right off that jetty.”
I never want to say to my kids, “I remember when,” with fishing and hunting.
TRCP’s “In the Arena” series highlights the individual voices of hunters, anglers, and conservationists who, as Theodore Roosevelt so famously said, strive valiantly in the worthy cause of conservation.
Jamie Dahl
Hometown: Fort Collins, CO Occupation:Assistant Professor, Human Dimensions of Natural Resources, Colorado State University Conservation credentials:Natural resources educator and forester who uses fieldwork experiences to instill a conservation ethic – and an appreciation for hunting and angling’s role in conservation efforts – in the next generation.
Jamie Dahl is a dyed-in-the-wool outdoorswoman of Pennsylvania roots. She’s been everything from a certified wildland firefighter and chainsaw course instructor to a professional forester and volunteer coordinator. In her personal life, she’s a hiker, hunter, angler, and mother mentoring two sons on sporting ethics and natural resources stewardship. Her career currently centers on teaching college students how our natural environment and social justice issues connect to everything and everyone.
Here is her story.
Photo Credit: Bill Cotton/Colorado State University
One of my most memorable hunts came while turkey hunting with my husband in Colorado. Being from Pennsylvania, we were still figuring out turkey hunting in the West (really, we still are). We were sitting in some ponderosa pines on public land in the Estes Park area, where we often heard gobblers, but most commonly far off or on the next slope. That morning when we heard the gobbler my husband and I got set. He made a good mouth call and started to call the gobbler in. The bird was responding, getting closer.
Eventually, he came into view. It was my first time seeing the full-on strut, colors, and performance so close. The gobbler’s colors were so striking.
“There’s nothing quite like the quick adrenaline rush when you hear that gobble on a crisp spring morning.”
I never had a clean shot because several hens protected that gobbler. It seemed like they knew it was a trick. They blocked and surrounded that gobbler the entire time, who just strutted and seemed to be clueless. There’s nothing quite like the quick adrenaline rush when you hear that gobble on a crisp spring morning.
I actually started hunting later in life. My uncle hunted throughout my childhood, and though I was not interested back then, I would often eat the meat he harvested. When I went to Penn State University to study forestry, my boyfriend at the time hunted, as did his family. I would sometimes join them in late-muzzleloader season in Pennsylvania to just observe.
Photo Credit: Jamie Dahl
I later met my husband, Chris, at PSU, who also grew up hunting. He and his family were also supportive of my interest. Eventually, a Penn State colleague invited me to participate in a special hunter education program for students and faculty called “Conservation Leaders for Tomorrow.” That program gave me the knowledge and skills to feel more confident and truly start hunting in my early 20s.
My favorite time to hunt is still late-muzzleloader deer season in Pennsylvania, with family. The family part is the key. My husband’s family and friends have an awesome tradition of gathering during that season, particularly the first week, which is late December and January in Pennsylvania, so it can be very cold. If we’re lucky, there’s snow. I harvested my first deer there with a flintlock muzzleloader, a special experience, and friends and family were right there.
We hunt in small groups and generally stop for a hot lunch together at someone’s home. The social part is what makes it memorable. There are usually three generations participating, and since we live in Colorado now, we especially cherish times when we can join. If we are lucky enough to harvest a deer, we process it together and folks still in need will share the meat. If we aren’t lucky? Hunting and fishing licenses and equipment dollars help pay for conservation, so I joke in the many seasons I don’t harvest an animal that I still did my part to support conservation.
Besides hunting and fishing for fun, I work in environmental communications and education. So when I think of challenges to conservation my brain goes to the need for changing behavior related to the land, air, and water we’re all connected to. In Colorado, we have extreme recreation pressure, climate change, pressure on limited resources, wildland fire, and habitat and species loss. But the real challenge is getting people to understand these complexities, so they want to take day-to-day actions to help.
Photo Credit: Bill Cotton/Colorado State University
As I discuss with the students I teach at Colorado State University (CSU), the environment and social justice connect to everything and everyone. How can we provide solid natural resources education and messaging to get people to conserve and steward this one planet? To get everyone to care about climate change? We all have a stake in it, yet they are complex issues that we do not all agree on. We need all different types of people involved, or we will not find practical solutions that fit. Some groups have historically been left out of the decision-making, and that has to change.
Our own tactics to communicate about environmental problems are often lacking; most conservation professionals are not trained in communication and outreach. There are also barriers for some to access the outdoors; this is another key area that gets overlooked. Who is participating, and who is not? Why? Where is the decision-making power? These are some questions I like to ask. I do not have many women friends who hunt (and I look for them); when I hunt and fish, I also do not tend to see much racial and ethnic diversity, though that is very slowly changing.
“If you’ve ever harvested your own food, you can likely connect to a greater appreciation for it.”
The fact is hunting and angling participation has decreased in recent decades. There are many reasons for this, but one is that many families and youth are further removed from the outdoors. There is also research that shows folks’ value orientation is changing. I respect those who say hunting and fishing are not for them; however, if you work in natural resources and the environment, it is essential to understand these activities as conservation tools.
Photo Credit: Jamie Dahl
People are more likely to care about the environment, and to vote for and volunteer for it, if they are exposed in their youth. In our household, both parents hunt, so our children (ages 10 and 4) are exposed to the harvest of game. Our oldest son has been interested in hunting and fishing since he was a toddler, and being outside keeps us off our electronic devices.
He especially loves fishing. It is an activity the whole family can easily access and presents a challenge. We learn things together when we do it: what bait or lure do we need, where are the fish today, how do we take care of a fish if we catch one requiring release, and, if we keep one, how will we clean and cook it? Youth gain many important benefits from this experience.
Photo Credit: Jamie Dahl
If you’ve ever harvested your own food, you can likely connect to a greater appreciation for it. We know food does not just appear in plastic wrap at the grocery store. We scout, hike, and practice our aim or cast to potentially harvest some of our dinner for the day or the year. And we appreciate the sacrifice of the animal to help sustain us.
I’ll take a day in the woods over a device any time.
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HOW YOU CAN HELP
TRCP has partnered with Afuera Coffee Co. to further our commitment to conservation. $4 from each bag is donated to the TRCP, to help continue our efforts of safeguarding critical habitats, productive hunting grounds, and favorite fishing holes for future generations.
