Autumnal

It looks as if the warm, pleasant autumn afternoons enjoyed this week are passing, and next week will be seasonable, with daily highs from the fifties to about sixty degrees. Even as the sun kissed the water yesterday, it was clear that the few mayflies that had carried the gift of the dry fly were waning. Though the afternoon was gorgeous, I found no feeding trout.

It is early to be mourning another season’s passing, for I am used to fishing dry late into October. Nature never allows us to get too comfortable in predicting her patterns. Last year my late holiday spent hunting big fish was quiet, and this year seems it could be much the same.

There is little rain coming with that colder weather, and thus no hope for the sustenance so desperately craved by our freestone rivers and streams. The big tailwaters still flow cold with elevated releases from New York City’s dams, but their stated drawdown target has been reached, exceeded in most cases. Those flows could disappear tomorrow.

I hunted along the river all but one day this week, allowing time for the ruffed grouse opener afield. This drought year left little for me to find. A single flush was heard, though unseen through thick cover and distance, and I found the thornapples barren of their autumn fruit. All of Nature in these Catskills could use two days of gentle, soaking rain!

I cling to the joy encountered on September’s last day, the thrill of tangling with that broad shouldered brownie who dared sample my little Cahill. I may have to hold that moment in my heart now, until April.