River Life

Lucky?

I was born on this river. Rain, mud, mosquitoes, TROUT.

The grass is up to my neck and the hummocks keep rolling under my hip boots. I can hardly see, I look for a safe way to the river without falling flat on my face and going over my La Crosse hippers in beaver muck. Its mid summer, which means bugs on the trout stream. Any trout bum worth a salt knows this is a good time to go. Its overcast and rainy. Ideal conditions. I choose a good day to fish. I'm on the river with two of my very best friends. Both female. Always getting in trouble, and always spooking fish. I keep a low profile as I approach a pool I know very well. I roll cast my royal coachman under a bank where an unsuspecting trout hides. Fish on. Up comes the form of a male brook trout in fall spawning colors. I keep the 7x taught, land the fish and watch it fin beside me. My curious friends sniff and play in the water by the trout, they seem mystified. I watch the act unfold and realize I am the luckiest man alive.