Monday 4-13-15, small wonders.

Another stream visited, one that was seemingly dead under mounds of ice for what felt like forever. When approaching the water it looked so inviting. The flow was as I remembered from last year, some of the structure from above was now in the stream and always where you want to cast a fly. All good though, "protection afforded".

As I always do I scan for those visible bumps on the water surface, and that determines my first choice of flies. This day with no signs of surface activity I chose a wet fly. Casting in several locations, searching for that first fish I noticed a swirl behind my fly. Normally in such clear water I can see the trout clearly as it heads for the fly but not this time it was just a swirl and gone.

I continued to work the pools and runs of this little gem of a stream, knowing I would soon be into a fish.

As the fly stopped at the end of its drift and lay there a moment the fish struck, "oh that feeling". The brook trout worked the 3wt piece of glass and showed his true color...tenacity. I put my hand into the water and lifted him ever so slightly. A quick photo and off he went.

I continued to walk and fish. I admired how the countryside was slowly coming to life. With Springs bright warm sunshine and Aprils gentile rains all is well.

Brook trout continued to take the fly. I was happy with the condition of the fish as well as the shear number of real small trout I observed.

As I made my way to the car I fished a pool that I reserve for my last casts. It is the final place on this stream before it enters places I do not like to fish.

It is in this place that I took the last fish of the day. A beautiful wild brown. It's remarkable how a fish so colorful can be so invisible. What a memory to bring home.