Lately, it seems, everything is coming in "small". I had a small window of opportunity to sneak out on a small creek in search of small native cutthroat trout. Even though it was only a two hour adventure, it was much needed.
My wife loves to go on these little outings. They usually involve a short hike or stroll through the woods. We try to identify wildflowers and trees. We look for sign of animals. Most importantly, we look for the places trout hide.
As we turned the corner on the trail, the sound of the creek became more noticeable. It is such a pleasant sound and brings a calm feeling over us. It feels as if my ears are like lungs and inhale the trickling, bubbling, and cascading rhythms of moving water. These small creeks have a different sound than the larger rivers. To me it is inviting. It's more of a whisper, "Here, come sit and visit with me." The larger rivers call out with power and authority, "I'm mighty and powerful and if you don't respect me, I'll kill you!" Both have a pull on my spirit, but the soft tones of the creeks have my heart.
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| SMALL BEAUTIFUL JEWEL |
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| HITTING SMALL POCKET WATER |
I consider the small native cutthroat in these creeks as jewels. One of the definitions of a jewel is: a precious person or thing. The small trout fit this definition for me. A jewel is also described as a treasure, a gem, marvel, find, godsend, prize, blessing, and masterpiece. There is no question I could find a way to explain the trout in any of the aforementioned ways.
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LITTLE CREEKS ARE
NICE PLACES TO SPEND A COUPLE OF HOURS |
To explain the pursuit of the trout (and the experience of each outing as a whole), I would use the word "perfect", although most fly fishermen will tell you that all things concerning fly fishing are far from perfect. Yet, I find upon reflection, when afield, and as I smile to myself as I reminisce in moments of quiet ponder, that what I feel is a form of perfection--not that it is a reflection on me as a person, but rather, a reflection of the environments where fly fishing takes me, and an inner peace I find in those environments. In its way, that peace comes home with me--eventually runs out, and then needs recharged with another outing. In Norman Maclean's book, "A River Runs Through It" he mentions this perfection.
"So on this wonderful afternoon when all things came together it took me one cast, one fish, and some reluctantly accepted advice to attain perfection." He goes on,
"When I was young, a teacher had forbidden me to say "more perfect" because she said if a thing is perfect it can't be more so. But by now I had seen enough of life to have regained my confidence in it."
I tend to believe in what Maclean writes. When I get the chance to spend time in the places I love, doing the thing I love (fly fishing), either alone or with the person I love most--I don't know of anything "more perfect".
