Home-Stream Fish of the Year

by | Dec 15, 2014 | 0 comments

My home-water is not full of big fish.  Burke likes to call it fishing for midgets.  Is that politically incorrect? OK then; it’s usually a matter of fishing for little fish.  However, this evening we caught a larger one — easily my fish of the year on this water.

wpid-20141215_1636342.jpg.jpeg

This is my oldest son, Joey, who is six years old.  He’s starting to get to the point where wading isn’t the main challenge anymore while we’re out there fishing together, and he threw a few casts over where this fish was holding just a few minutes before I did.  I can’t imagine what would have happened if he actually hooked this one himself!  But, I handed my rod to him after I saw the size of this big brown, and he started laughing about how strong it was; then he asked to be the “net man” instead of the “rod man” for this one, and I agreed.  Probably a good idea.

wpid-20141215_1634452.jpg.jpeg

This fish was almost a Whiskey Drinker (see Troutbitten Traditions) and if it was just a little longer, Joey would have been taking his first pull on the flask tonight. Don’t call CYS because I’m just kidding — I think.  It was a great moment though.

When Joey was born, these are the days I was dreaming of.

wpid-20141215_1611452.jpg.jpeg

Share This Article . . .

Since 2014 and 600 articles deep
Troutbitten is a free resource for all anglers
Your support is greatly appreciated

– Explore These Post Tags –

Domenick Swentosky

Central Pennsylvania

Hi. I’m a father of two young boys, a husband, author, fly fishing guide and a musician. I fish for wild brown trout in the cool limestone waters of Central Pennsylvania year round. This is my home, and I love it. Friends. Family. And the river.

More from this Category

Night Shift – The Porcupine

Night Shift – The Porcupine

Fly fishing is not dangerous. The trending push to nudge it into the extreme sports category is amusing, because fly fishing is closer to the cliche of being the peaceful, pastoral, quiet sport than being saddled up at the next X-Games. But to the uninitiated, the...

Night Shift – Into the Dark

Night Shift – Into the Dark

You can't stand up to the night until you understand what's hiding in its shadows.  -- Charles De Lint Last June I made a commitment. I promised myself that I would go deep into the night game and learn to catch the wildest trout in the darkest hours. Having spent a...

Admiration

Admiration

Not many fish allow you to break off a fly on the hookset while they still take another fly just five minutes and three drifts later. It takes a special kind of stupid for that to happen.

Pat spread the mustard lightly this time. And the joy of all children, April fishermen, spinnies and hobbyists was firmly hooked.

This is the End

This is the End

The fisher awoke before dawn. He put his boots on.

He took the rod from a gallery of graphite and cork and walked down the forest hall.

He moved through thick, hazy darkness — miles toward the island, with no sound but the crunch, crunch, and rustle. Footfalls on sandy dirt, roots and rotting leaves. The log. The water. The red halos around orange spots as big as nickels, randomly speckled and enhanced by the minor refraction of cool water sliding and dripping across the broad sides of wild magnificence, the size of which as rare as any to be called legendary . . .

Muddy Meathead

Muddy Meathead

. . . Things started to happen. I moved two really nice trout — the kind of fish that makes you yell four-letter words as the opportunity vanishes — and I picked up a couple average sized browns. I went over to visit with Dad, and I plopped a few casts next to the bank across from him. He was at the top of the river-left side of the island. I walked across to the far side and waded through the high water by myself, into position to fish a place that’s a little special to the Troutbitten guys. I moved a small fish, then chucked the next cast as close to the water-logged tree stump as I dared.  Strip … drift … strip, strip … drift … strip … BAM!

Momentum carried him to the top of the brown water, and I saw the fish I’ve been waiting for. He swam hard to the tree stump, but with strong 2X I changed his mind. These are the moments fishermen live for. It was the culmination of a new streamer pattern, a new rig that Burke showed me, and relentless hope against forceful, muddy water . . .

The Boys of Summer

The Boys of Summer

Well, it's summer again. The creeks say so, and the fish say so, and good fishing is becoming more exclusively a morning proposition with just a little activity right before dark as well. The night fishing action has not turned on for me yet, despite my best efforts;...

What do you think?

Be part of the Troutbitten community of ideas.
Be helpful. And be nice.

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recent Articles

Recent Posts

Pin It on Pinterest