High Summer Trout

Something from the tackle box:

       A river and its streams bring joy to the city, which is the sacred home of God Most High.  God is in that city, and it won’t be shaken.  He will help it at dawn.  (Psalm 46:4-5 CEV)

                High Summer Trout

The dog days of late summer is not the season

     To fish for trout on little streams,

           Or so most people say.

The knowing sportsmen have all left the brooks

     To cast their baits on lakes for bass

          Around Memorial Day. 

Or, perhaps have forsaken their rod and line for clubs

     And mid-day tee-times in the blazing sun. 

But I know that trout still rise to flies

     When August days are hazy hot,

          If only for a time. 

For a short half an hour, just before sunset,

     And twenty minutes after dawn,

          The fishing can be prime.

For one who is willing to gear up and get out 

     To wade a stream for such short lived fun.

This morning on Tinker’s Creek was such for me,

     With a summer fog hanging on the banks,

          Air denser than the brook.

I cast near a hole I had fished in yesterday’s twilight

     A spot where I had gotten seven rises

          Without setting a hook.

Those seven strikes had been encouraging, if frustrating,

     This morning there would be but one.

A quick splash, and the rod bent over, hook well set.

     Her breakfast tasting better than dinner,

          At least at first, I bet.

Not big as trout go, but flashing and dancing in the current

     All the way, until leader met rod tip,

          And she nestled in my net.

As I introduced myself, a golden spotted beauty she was,

     I removed the hook and let her run.

For we may well meet again upon another summer morning.

     Or perhaps an early evening tryst awaits us.

          One can only wish.

Either way, I shall have her to myself, if and when that happens,

     For the knowing sportsmen have all left the streams

          To fish for bigger fish.

And I alone will wade in Tinker’s Creek, right at dawn and dusk,

     High summer hard upon us, but my fishing not yet done.  

Something to take home in your creel:

       I really did have a glorious, if very hazy, morning on a Tinker’s Creek today.  As well as the fish I just wrote about, I had a hummingbird fly up and call me “buttercup,” as she stuck her beak under the bill of my cap.  Although I didn’t get a picture of that, here are some other photos of the beautiful late summer foliage along the banks this morning.