“A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” yelled King Richard III as a battle raged around him on the English moors. His words were echoing in my mind, but I wasn’t an English king on a battlefield. I was merely a trout fisherman living in Michigan during the throes of winter. As I rummaged through my fly-tying materials I muttered, “A neck. A neck. My fly rod for a neck.”
