August 14, 2015

Brown Trout Color Patterns

Was looking at these similar patterned fish this morning.  The white halos were striking.

These 2 were caught in the same county about 10 miles apart in totally different waterways.

August 13, 2015

The First Fall



Winter went by slowly and painfully.  Every day brought another memory.  My ten year old mind didn't handle it well.  Winter seemed eternal and so did my sorrow.  My hero and mentor was no longer there to look up to. I looked to my mother to help ease the pain.  She was busy with five daughters that seemed to need her more than I did.
I had not visited him since he left us.  I wasn't sure how I would handle it.  It just became too much to bear.  I bundled up in my deer hunting gear and walked way out to the edge of town. We talked for quite a while. It was a one sided conversation. I left the cemetery more confused than I was before.
I stayed indoors most of that winter.  Most of that endless winter I was looking through my father's fishing and hunting gear. I was trying to re-live some of those memories of my dad and I.  All the clothing and rod and reels seemed worthless without him to go along with them.  It was a long winter.
My mother could see my pain and we talked often about things dad and I did together.  My ten year old brain couldn't handle the loss of my father.  My mom tried her dangdest to keep me positive.
Spring finally came and I escaped from the house and my self pity.  My mother had bought me a new rod and reel and I was planning on putting it to good use at the dam in Gays Mills and the trout streams of Crawford County..
The fishing pacified me for a while but the memories of my dad and I kept creeping in the back of my mind and making me sad.  It seemed like every event that happened caused me to fall backwards in time.  I would smile about the good times with my dad but afterwards I felt sad and kinda hollow.
I remember all the stream side lessons my dad gave me.  The outdoors were special and needed to be treated that way.  I can remember dragging a large bag with me every outing to clean up garbage. Picking up garbage distracted me and gave me a sense of purpose and it kept the sadness at bay.

Summer came quickly.  School had kept me on the straight and narrow.  I was too busy to be sad.  I had lots of time on my hands and I went into the outdoors to quell my pain.  It was impossible to avoid places that reminded me of my dad.  I tried to at first but I then embraced them.  The memories were starting to make me smile and not feel sad.  Summer flew by and school was there again.  School held structure and that was what I desperately needed.
The first cold snap hit.  Fall was not far away.  My dad's dog Ginger and I went for a walk. I asked her if she wanted to go chase squirrels or chippies as my dad called them.  She didn't move an inch until the word chippies came out of my mouth. She had been a little lethargic since dad passed but she came to life.  She was bouncing off the furniture until we exited the house because she was so excited.

 We walked all over my little hometown.  Ginger loved to chase squirrels.  There was not a squirrel not bothered that day by Ginger and me.  She treed every one with the same gusto as she would have if my dad was along.  She seemed satisfied with the outing so we went home.  I sat on the porch with her thinking about dad and all of our good times together until  bedtime.
October came screaming up on me.  The leaves were changing and there was a nip in the air.  This was my dad's favorite time of the year.  I left the dog at home and went into the nearby woods where dad and I squirrel hunted. I was eleven then and almost a year had passed since he died.
I sat down on a stump and looked, listened and felt my surroundings just like my dad had taught me. He had told me to cherish the outdoors and hold that specialness close and never forget it. Then a cold breeze rustled the fallen leaves and a squirrel barked in the distance.  It was like he talked to me and told me it was okay to move on with my life because he had never left.


Len Harris

StreamOfTime_photos's LenHarris album on Photobucket

Driftless


August 10, 2015

Trout And What Caught On

I used stick baits quite some time ago.  I was never very good with them.  I migrated away from them due to the double treble hooks.