Let Me Tell You Where It's At.

After yesterday's unsuccessful efforts to find rising fish before 7:00 pm, I found little incentive to continue practicing my casting. At my age, wisdom says, " that I might well be better off saving all those blind casts for a time when there is actually a fish rising within casting range".

So, I spent a good part of the day chatting with river friends, both old and new, knowing full well that promptly at 3:00 pm the Hendrickson's would hatch in a big flat water pool on the WB, where just two days ago, ace guide Matt's sport slayed em, (I didn't ask about how things went yesterday). 

It was 3:02 when I spotted the first Hendrickson, Anthony, artist and photographer extraordinaire, with whom I'd been chatting, got up and left, (I assumed, to get his gear), never saw him again. What I did see was a "hatch" of Hendricksons comparable to those I've seen all year. Yes there were bugs, and yes there were a few fish rising, and yes I was able to wade out and fish to them. But it was another pitiful showing by the Hendricksons.   

The fishing - Was able to wade within reach of five fish that I saw rise more than once. Got all five to come to the fly. A good sized brown refused my offering and never showed his face again. the other four ate. Lost one right after the hookup, lost one well into the fight, and landed the other two, (a 17 inch 'bow and an 18 inch brown). 

At 4:30, with no more fish to cast to, the sky darkening, and the pools I wanted to try, crowded with weekend warriors, I drove back to the Lordville Estate to lick my wounds, and clean the toilet bowl, (my long suffering bone fishing companion is coming up to fish with me next week).

Where it's at - The bugs are scarce, most of the fish still have clean mouths, the eagles are hungry, and hooking a fish is cause for celebration.