For those who love small streams, wild trout, and life...in their simplest form
Friday, July 11, 2014
"Muddy Creek" Why do they call it that?
I got out for a few hours yesterday morning. It being the coolest part of the day, as far as air temps go but the humidity was disgusting. I had on a light shirt that I wear when mosquitos are active and it was wet with perspiration in minutes. But I was fishing so a little inconvenience was accepted. The stream was low, but it's flow was good. There were numerous pools of deep water and that provided all that was necessary for the trout who live here. I took several water temps before I made my first cast and the readings were 64-66, and one reading of 60, that must have been right over an incoming spring. Another thing that I noticed were a lot of crayfish, don't know if the brookies were eating them or perhaps a raccoon.
The first pool I fished was as clear as could be, I was able to see the bottom as well as anything that was swimming about. I gazed for a spell and was shocked when a trout rose but a foot from me. Where did he come from, and what was so small, I saw nothing on the water, that he was eating. I cast the Ausable Wulff to a spot about 6 inches from where the trout rose and very soon he came up and took the fly.
Comfort zone for brook trout.
The pool continued to give up several nice little brookies. A few even allowed me a in the water photo. Man I love these fish.
The next pool had me drooling. Good oxygen flowing in, a deep water section, and a large boulder with a beautiful undercut and all in shade. Three or four drifts of the Wulff produced nothing, patience Alan this is to good of a spot not to have any fish. Several more casts and suddenly to pool exploded. The trout hit and hit hard. The fight was on and that fish used every bit of that pool to gain his escape. I finally got control and had the trout at my foot. As I lifted him up and readied the camera he flopped and the hook shot out of his mouth. A heartbeat later he was in the water getting ready to leave. I said to myself please wait a moment, and as if he could hear me, waited. I took a photo and was ready to take another when he departed back into the dark stream.
A nice brook trout from a small stream. One photo for you Mr. Angler. After all that disruption in that pool it continued to give a few more brookies.
By this time, which was several hours of rock, and hill climbing I was pretty beat. I headed for the Honda and a bottle of cold water.
Look what was available to me when I got home. How can you beat a day like this.