Teasers

I can hear the rain, nearly stopped now, dripping on the metal roof. Despite the forecasts, the Catskills continue to be deprived of their most precious ingredient. Brief, gentle showers fall upon us, teasers for the day-long rains our rivers desperately need.

The fishing has changed once more, trout and angler alike holding our breath perhaps to discover what high summer holds, as well as that all too rapid descent into autumn.

In one of those rare years when we have an abundance of rainfall and cold water, August fishing can be amazing for those who study the rivers and all of their moods. I do not pretend to know the science behind frigid dam releases and bounteous extended hatches of mayflies, but there is clearly a threshold uncrossed in hot, dry summers like this one. The little showers and haphazardly passing storm cells fail to open those doors.

Inevitably, I recognize this turning point, that time when the new season passes it’s midpoint and thoughts of it’s end creep into the quiet moments of my thoughts.

Six o’clock, and dawn is gray. My reflective mood lingers…

I heard footsteps in the water just the other day, and watched smiling as a doe escorted her twin fawns into the river for a morning drink. A moment later a soft ring dimpled along a distant riverbank, and I lofted a long line to lay my fly a foot upstream. My relaxed mindset betrayed me at the gentle take. Awakened to the urgency of the moment I reacted too quickly and missed my sole opportunity for the day. Such can be the fate of a trout hunter.