My cell phone alarm awakened me early Sunday morning urging me to get the hell out of bed and go fishing. After the initial shock, I opened my tired eyes and in the gloom of the backlit screen I saw my two Labradors looking at me in the dark. They shifted their gaze and looked at each other before collapsing sideways into me. Their combined weight nearly pushed me off the bed. They must have thought I was crazy to be waking up at such an hour to leave the warm confines of my bed and head out into the heart of one of the season's first noreasters. I got their message and stopped the alarm.
Fall on the Pohopoco.
The Fish Congregate Under the Rhododendron.
I awoke several hours later and this time both dogs were off of my bed, eagerly gazing up at me. This time, they wanted me to get up. I obliged, and took them out for some early morning exercise. Tired and panting relentlessly, Riley and Sophie came back inside. They saw me head for my fishing gear and realized I was about to leave them. Normally, any movement towards a jacket or shoes results in several jumps or excited moans and groans. It's wierd when the dogs know when they are and are not welcomed. I always feel bad taking one and leaving the other, so they both get left behind. One day, when they are both mature enough to handle fishing and have some sort of stream etiquette, they will never be turned away.
A Shallow Poho Run.
The View From Below.
The First Bow = Mangled Mouth.
Ahh, Much Prettier.
Soft Hackle PT Slays.
& Claims Another.
Soft Hackle Hares Ear Does The Job Too.
Underwater Release.
Taking time off from fishing, I played around with the river bottom, lifting and turning over large rocks accompanied by thick vegetation. The stream was alive with insect life. Olive and yellow caddis, black and golden stones, and a strong population of sow and cressbugs. I took my time trying to take some micro shots. I took even more time trying to find a large black stone. I only produced a small one around a size 12. I tied on one of the blackstones I tied for the Salmon River. It was a size 6 with a tungsten bead and rubber legs galore. I heaved it upstream behind a fallen log. In the 12 inch water, the tungsten hit bottom in less than a second. In around 2 seconds, I saw a flash and set the hook. A small wild brown could not resist the large meal and he came to my cold eager hands.
Large Caddis Dwarfing A Small Stone.
One of the Small Stones.
Cress Bug.
Green Caddis Larva.
Small Black Stone.
My Large Black Imitation.
Score.
5 comments:
great macro shots. Sweet
Beautiful images along with entertaining commentary.It doesn't get any better than that.
Mucho gracias.
I need to give you a crash course in taxonomy my friend. Instead of the (quite painful) large caddis and green caddis you could take them bad boys to their genus... Hydropsyche, and Rhyacophyla. Haha, I should use that on an exam..."Green Caddis", that would go over like a fart in church...
what are they biting on? What? WHAT ARE THEY BITING ON? WHAT? I SAID.....
RHYACOPHYLA SIZE 16!
............................
Nah, I get your point, I really should learn the scientific names. Break me out of my stage, color, and size fly fishing habit.
You need to blog more.
Damn Straight...
Post a Comment