So, like a great many other people, I was fishing in the greater DPSP area over the past few days (fish are rolling through in schools, frequency is increasing, but the peak is still probably a week away). The fishing wasn't light's out, but I'd estimate I was getting into fish every half hour or so. After a prolonged slow patch, I felt a pretty standard hit and then settled in for a very non-standard fight. It wasn't like I was fishing with a noodle for a rod (I use an NRX 8 weight), but I couldn't get the fish in. I'd get it close, it would bull down toward the depths and start peeling off line. It pulled me off of the 10lb mushroom anchor I was using, and then proceeded to make the boat twirl around like a slowmo merry go round. 10 minutes later it was close to the boat when a tan blur streaked into view and homed in on my fish like a fur-coated torpedo. At this point, for reasons that I am still struggling to understand, I literally started shouting at a marine-mammal to get the hell away from my fish, much like the crotchety old neighbor would shout at you to get off of his lawn when your kickball strayed onto his turf. The seal minded about as well as the neighborhood kids, and when both the fish and the furpedo headed for shore I was sure it was all over. My line zipped back and forth as the aquatic equivalent of a lion and a gazelle zigged, zagged and looped about just under my stern. Somehow - the salmon pulled off a maneuver that sent the seal zipping in the wrong direction, and in that moment I managed to get a handle on the fish and bring him aboard. After quickly dispatching him, I sized him up. This was a beast. Fish math is problematic in the best of times but this was a broad-shouldered, frying-pan wide beast of a pink salmon that had to be in the vicinity of 10 lbs - easily the biggest, baddest pink I'd ever caught. Not only that - there was nary a wound from the seals canine's on the flesh! While I was admiring the fish, the seal breached 10 feet away from me and fixed me in his gaze. I've never even imagined what an angry seal looks like, but this fellow was flat out irate. It was staring straight at me, exhaling heavily through its nostrils, opening and closing its mouth, and waving its head back and forth. Then it closed the distance a bit and just stared at me for a few seconds before darting off. I thought to myself, "Too bad, so sad for you buddy, looks like I got the last laugh." I figured the coast was clear after about 45 seconds, and as I'd been bleeding the fish the entire time it was overdue for a bit of a wash. I did one last check over the shoulder and saw no sign of my erstwhile nemesis, and proceeded to quickly dip the fish in the water - check the horizon - and repeat 2-3 times until the blood was mostly gone. I know what you are thinking - this was a) a dumb move and b) is the part where the seal takes the fish. While option a) is clearly a correct surmisal on your part, no fish was snatched from my fingers and I proceeded to stand up, and hold the fish up and took a moment to admire it. Definitely, definitely the biggest pink I'd ever caught, or ever seen for that matter. Then the fish came to life, and shook violently, as though someone had hooked it up to a 100,000 watt transmission line. Tug-tug-BOOM. Half a second and two violent shakes later it was gone. NO! NO! NO! How could this be. That. Fish. Was. Dead....After recovering from the shock of seeing the stone-dead-and-fully-bled Frankenfish snap down so violently that my finger passed through the apex of its jaw, I started to process what happened a bit more lucidly. Somehow, the seal had managed to pass under my boat, rear it's head in absolute silence, and clamp onto the tail without me having the slightest idea what was going on. I was literally staring at the upper half of the fish, and neither saw or heard a thing when operation CounterStrike went down. I was *standing up*! The tail had to have been at least a foot and a half out of the water! Once again, I found myself literally shouting at a marine mammal. Actually expecting it to feel bad. The following morning a very familiar looking seal surfaced not too far from my boat and fixed me in its gaze. This time, it appeared to be laughing.