September 19,20

"....When I was five
I was just alive
But now I am six,
I'm as clever as clever;
so I think I'll be six now
for ever and ever".
A.A. Milne

My fine friend "T" called me a couple weeks ago and suggested that he may bring his six year old son to a favorite trout stream where we, in the past (before six year olds), spent many hours fishing, staring at fires and sleeping in tents. He thought it might be a good idea if I joined him and brought my 5 year old daughter along. The two kids had never met except when they were too small to recall. And so the pencil on the calendar became pen and we went.

T and I never really had any grand illusions of converting these children into lifelong fly fishing addicts, but it wasn't entirely off the menu. We did manage to get the kids to hold an actual flyrod, but the creek and bugs, dirt and toads were too much of a distraction. So, we stood on the banks of a fine trout stream, bathed in the warm September sun, sipped beer and allowed that though trout fishing is a fine way to spend a day...so is being a father.

They swam and laughed, fell and skipped, caught crayfish, toads and grasshoppers. They played
and played
and played.

Never a quarrel was heard, nor a discipline required.
After dinner as we sat near the fire T's son turned in his camp chair and said sleepily,
"Dad.... I'm not sure why, but this S'more is cheering me up."

And that, was worth the price of admission.


The other thing to do with a blue ribbon trout stream.


T and I decided a size 6 olive/gold woolly bugger tied on a Mustad 9671 would match this nicely.


Oblivious of trout


This steep bank on the spring creek provided hours of entertainment.


No amphibians were harmed during the posting of this blog



This is about the sum total of our fishing lessons