Fished for two hours Sunday evening. Saw two fish.
One that another guy caught. I don't know what it was because I couldn't bear to look. I'll go on record saying it was a nine inch, cookie cutter stockie. But of course, it was likely a fat, sixteen inch Rainbow.
B4stard.
Another savagely slashed at my strike indicator. Came clear out of the water. A fair sized Brown who looked larger than he probably was.
Fished all manner of nymphs and wets in water that had yielded many fish the previous evening to someone whom I know to be relatively truthful. Of course, he had a perfect spring evening and a nice spinner fall. I had a drizzly evening better suited to March than late April.
Saw one Hendrickson spinner.
He seemed very lost and lonely.
He flew with a certain ennui that lay bare the true potential for mating that eve and thus satisfying both our urges - his for progeny and me for his limp, dead, form spread-eagled on the water being eagerly slurped by Browns that had thrown caution to the wind.
Fly away little mayfly.
I hope something eats you.
I saw a bountiful amount of size 32 flies. Probably should have tried some sort of midge pattern but didn't.
Had a cigar.
And scotch, of course.
So I suppose the evening wasn't a total loss.
Fishing the Deerfield tomorrow with Ross and Dan Harrison.
Perhaps I'll have better luck.
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