Aug 04 2011
Trout Hunting
It’s been a year since I last fished this brook, yet I still remember this particular pool and where the trout are located in it. Beneath the huge rock on the far side of the pool, there is ample cover for an aquatic predator to lie in wait for whatever the current carries downstream.
I crawl into position on the gravel bank, keeping my dog Matika behind me with a simple hand signal. The stream is low and clear, as it usually is this time of year. I draw closer than I would during springtime, confident that the August heat has driven the trout into the cool shadows.
Sure enough, I spot a tiny splash just beneath the huge rock. I wait patiently and it happens again. That has to be a trout sucking down flies just now breaking the surface, so I cast my trusty Ausable Wulff fly over there. The first couple casts come up shy of the shadows, but I wait until my fly has floated to the shallows before lifting it out of the pool. Try again. A third cast puts the fly right on target and, sure enough, the trout gulps it down. Seconds later I am landing a 9-inch brookie with all the delight that a trout hunter feels when a hunch pans out.
Matika dances around me as I remove the hook from the fish’s mouth. She dashes into the shallows when my quarry swims free. But the trout is lightning fast so it’s gone before my dog’s snout hits the water. I can’t help but laugh.
I fish for another hour and catch a few more trout, but it’s all rather anticlimactic after such a perfect setup and resulting interplay. On rare occasions, trout dreams are realized. And the rest of the day is merely a long, lazy, summertime indulgence. It doesn’t get any better than this for a brookwalker like me.
One response so far
One Response to “Trout Hunting”
Hi Walt: I haven’t jumped on your blog for what seems like months but this morning I much enjoyed this entry-the thoughts and the photo. I haven’t dipped a fly line in over three years yet haven’t forgotten the pleasure in the beauty of it all.
Philadelphia