Today was one of those days. Evening is usually best because it's cool, and you won't get soaked from the morning dew that's accumulated on every blade of head-high grass you often have to walk through.
I pop a couple of allergy pills (darned hay fever!) grab my 3 weight, a small fly box, hemostats and I'm out the door. My target pond is a sweet little one full of 8" cutties. I did well there last year, and I expect to do well there today.
I park at the logging road that leads to the stream the pond is on, and to my horror this is what I see......
There wasn't much daylight left. But, I did know of one last little gem a few miles away. It was pretty small, but should hold fish. I drove that direction not expecting much, after all that had happened already.
I grabbed the little three weight and started ducking my way through the Douglas fir regrowth. I could soon hear the gurgle of the small brook. The dam was intact, and the beavers had been busy. They had raised the pond water level a solid foot from last year, adding a bunch of new trout habitat. I flipped my little partridge and orange soft hackle into the tannic stained water, and instantly I saw a silver flash slashing towards the fly. The little cuttie cartwheeled out of the water and did his best to dislodge the little iron.
Its wasn't the metal detox, lots of easy fish kind of day that I had hoped for. Just the chance to see one of these little native cutthroats was enough. It's funny how a single fish can change a man's outlook, but that's what they do.... One was enough.