Trout Artistry

A gentle breeze corrugated the surface of the small lake. A tumbling brook thrust itself, like the fingers of an outstretched hand, into the dark water. We stood in the late September sunlight, wafting #14 dry flies, and letting the current carry our offerings to the waiting trout. Dave and I were having one last cast on the Woodens River before the long winter arrived. A splash! Turning, I saw my brother's flyrod bow. Another splash - this time at my fly. I lifted too late.

There is something stirring about wild Brookies feeding en masse - the way they approach mealtime with total commitment. Like hogs, belly-to-belly at a trough, they line up, noses into the current, waiting for the next morsel to drift within reach. A full belly belongs to the swiftest. There is no nibbling, no tasting, only an all-out savage pounce that sends a tingle up the spine as your fly gets the chomp.

There is such variety in the ways a trout can attack the fly. Sometimes, a wake comes streaking across the surface to intercept and destroy; more often a flash of silver rises up from the depths to engulf your offering. Occasionally, the fish leaps clear of the surface and takes the fly on the way down. At other times, it will come smashing down on top of the fly, as if to stun it, then turn and gobble it underwater. The same manoeuvre is sometimes employed with a variation - instead of leaping, the trout merely rushes at the fly, then turns, and slaps it with his tail. Artistry is the only word to describe it. For some unknown reason, certain trout make a display out of catching their prey. Why? Perhaps, the simplest answer is... because they can.

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!
- Random Phrump