The vermiculated back and white-trimmed fins left no doubt as to what I was looking at. And the fish was large for the stream. I slowly backed away and cast downstream to the fish. Nothing. I gently lifted the fly and cast it again, twitching it the second it hit the water. The fish moved toward it, rose to the surface, and took the fly in a swirling motion.
As I played the fish in the shallow water and leaves, I yelled to my friend who came downstream and netted the fish for me. We removed the fly and admired the size, coloration, and natural beauty of this wild native fish. After releasing the fish, we high-fived, knowing that it was likely the last fish of our all-too-short but very rewarding headwater stream fishing season.
We pushed further downstream over the next 20 minutes or so with me in the lead scanning the water for fish from high on the bank. After circling back upstream to find my friend, we climbed out of the streambed and into the woods to hike back to the truck. The woods were starting to get dark; we were both cold, and we knew it was unlikely that we would find another fish as any fish is a bonus that late in the season…
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