“Mad as a March hare,” that’s how the old saying goes.

College basketball fanatics anticipate  March Madness; Catholics, the beginning of Lent and, for everyone,  the last big-gulp gasp of Mardi Gras: “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

Crafty fly tyers may litter their vises with March Browns to celebrate the beginning of spring.

And for those of us plying urban waters, it’s time for the semi-annual parade of the carp.

“I think they end up in Balboa Lake. I’ve spotted some huge fish in there,” guide David Wratchford told me yesterday at the Fisherman’s Spot. That would be miles, and miles, and miles upstream from where they begin the migration, probably in the Glendale Narrows.

Earlier in the week, he’d left me a voicemail — with some urgency — that the spawn was on.

My question: why now?

Turning to the bible of carp fishing, “Carp on the Fly” by Barry Reynolds and friends, I found the following water chart:

Water Temperature                                               Remarks

39 degrees                                          Carp begin active feeding.

41 degrees                                           Carp begin pre-spawn move  to shallows.

61 degrees                                           Sustained temp lethal to carp eggs.

63 degrees                                           Probable lower limit for spawning.

66 degrees                                           Optimal temp for carp.

72 degrees                                           Metabolism increases rapidly.

75 degrees                                           Probable upper limit for spawning.

79 degrees                                           Sustained temps lethal to carp eggs.

90 degrees                                           Metabolism at a high rate.

97-106 degrees                                  Lethal temp limit for carp.

So, once Mother Nature’s spring water thermometer hits the correct temperature, the carp are off and running. And do they ever run, up into the shallows, and the concrete steps that dot the semi-natural surface of Glendale Narrows and beyond.

If the March hare’s madness springs from its wacky mating behaviors — including jumping into the air for no apparent reason — the same holds true for carp.

“I saw sea gulls attacking a whole group of them. The fish were almost completely out of the water. I don’t know. It looked like they were trying to pluck out their eyes,” said one old timer I met yesterday.

Another younger guy, dressed in surgeon’s scrubs, told me he thought he’d seen a rock on one of the concrete flats. That rock, of course, turned out to be a monster carp.

“Its back was completely dry,” he said, and added that he couldn’t resist picking it up, then setting it back down in the water. I met him and his two friends with poles in hand, hoping to find more spawning carp.

What does this mean for you? Get fishing before the weather turns. Take advantage of this fine spring weekend. Heck, you might even exchange your normal Glo-Bug for a Mad March Hare’s Ear.

See you on the river, Jim Burns

If you haven’t taken a river tour with Jenny Price, consider it. My wife and I toured with her several months ago, and it was an eye opener. Example: Think we live in a desert? Nine out of 10 would answer, “Of course,” but not if they’d taken this marvelous tour. Details below:

Browsing through the latest copy of Richard Anderson’s marvelous mag, “California Fly Fisher,” I recently spied an advertisement for the 2011 Fly Fishing Show in Pasadena, Calif. (Full disclosure. I’ve written a couple of pieces for him.)

Wow, I thought, what a great place to corral a bunch of stories for this ol’ hungry blog! Especially of interest, two seminars, “Sight Casting to Carp, the Golden Ghost of Southern California,” and “Fly Fishing Warm Water — Bass, Like, Carp.”

Because, as my industrialist daddy used to say, “time is money,” I went to the show’s site, only to find out that it’s a road show, with the next stop in Stockton later this month. But, unfortunately, there was no schedule of what was going on, and when.

So, I procrastinated and found myself asking the ticket lady inside her little portable booth outside the Pasadena Convention Center if, at 3:15 p.m. on a chilly Sunday afternoon, I could get a discount. Fifteen bucks is pretty dear these recessionary days.

Oh, and did I mention that the show closed at 4:30?

“No,” she said bluntly, and even in the dim light reminding of a confessional, I could see she wasn’t going to budge on the budget.

I ask you, isn’t $5 better than nothing?

So … my report on the show is zippo, nada, not a note taken, nor a voice recorded.

I guess that’s the beautiful thing about blogging and not getting paid for it. If you blow it, well, there’s always tomorrow.

One thing I did notice during my time peering in the picture windows and watching a newbie casting demo, the demographic for the show is basically mine — and older. Lots older. When our lot gets to pounding on tables at the bar and other likely spots, we like to opine on the lack of youthfulness in the sport. And by youthfulness, I don’t mean the bad-ass contingent that looks to be refugees from snowboarding. (Don’t get indignant … Anyone for a snowboarding/ice fishing combo?)

Anyway, getting “the youth” involved means getting off our older behinds, going to schools, casting ponds, derbies, whatever, to turn on the truly young to the wonders of nature. Neal Taylor was genius in doing it, and his obit ran today in the Los Angeles Times, paleolithic edition. Four thousand children a year come to Lake Cachuma, near Santa Barbara, and possibly many heard a tale spun by Taylor. Among his more notable students, presidents Carter, Reagan and Eisenhower.

After all, how can you miss with a spiel that begins, “”At Lake Cachuma, we have seeds that walk, spiders that fly, plants that catch fish and trees that predict rain.”

See you on the river, Jim Burns