Jungle Warfare

With a watchful eye, I make slow deliberate steps through the chest-tall grass, aware of any danger that might be underfoot. The sound of flowing water is just ahead of me now. Not the fast moving rush of a big river, but the slow sliding gurgle of a warm water stream gently passing by. I am nearly in it before I realize that I'm even on its banks. Suddenly, I hear a screech overhead and a shadow whizzes past. Just a chicken hawk on its way out for an evening meal. The stream cuts deeply to my right and the water is slowed by the sudden change in direction. It's here I am briefly made aware of the presence of my target. There under the bank a dark shadow sits among the slow swirling weeds and water. I prepare my weapon for the attack.  It's a short rod, only a 7 footer, smooth rolled fiberglass and cork. The line is light - 5wt with a 7 foot leader. At the end, a small black fly is tied on. The fly is meant to look like a lot of things and look like nothing at the same time. That's why it's effective here. I judge the distance to my target and check the wind and current. 25 feet, maybe 30. If I misjudge, my fly will hit the water too close to the fish. If it's too short, the fish might not see it at all. Making a good cast in this tall grass is difficult, but I manage to hit the water about two feet in front of the cut bank with just enough slack in the line to get a perfect drift. The line goes tight with the current, then it goes even tighter with sudden extra weight. The water explodes. Victory is mine.

FINALLY!!!!!!!

    As anglers, we know all about "firsts." The first fish we ever caught as a child. Our first fly rod. First fly tying kit. And the first fish caught on one of our own flies. Often we never really lose that sense of childhood excitement. We might make note of our first fish of a new year or maybe the first bass caught in the spring, first fish caught in salt water or maybe our first wild salmon. Then, it comes full circle when we get to watch our children and grandchildren when they catch their first fish and on their first fly rod and so forth.
   Today was a special day for me - one of those "firsts" that will live with me forever. I set out more than a year and a half ago on a personal quest to fly fish the North Fork of the Republican River here in eastern Colorado and to try and catch the elusive (if not somewhat mythical) wild brown trout that are rumored to inhabit it. Even though I have caught many fish and walked many miles of riverbank, the trout have always avoided me. I've seen them swiming, seen them sitting on the bottom of the river almost motionless. I've watched them feed on anything else in the world but my fly. I even hooked one last year only to have it throw the the fly back at me and give me the finger. But not today. That's right, my friends. Today I caught a trout!
   Now, please don't misunderstand me. I have caught many trout in my life. I've caught rainbows, and cutbows, cutthroats, browns, and brookies. I've even caught wild steelhead in the pacific northwest. So why you ask is this such a big deal today? Cause I said so Damnit! But seriously this was a big one for me. I grew up here. And up until just a few years ago, I didn't even know these fish were in our little creek. On top of that, add in the feeling of being denied over and over again. It was due time, I guess. When I finally held that little fish in my hand for those few seconds to get a picture, I felt like a little kid again.
    So what now? I'm certainly not going to stop. I guess now I will have to wait for my first one over 20 inches, or maybe my first double. Who knows? What I do know for sure, though, is that the trout in the North Fork of the Republican River are not a myth. They can be caught, and they are beutiful. And I want more.

Just wanted to point out that this is not my fish. I found this image on google images and used it because it was very close to the size of the one I caught and the river looks strikingly similar to my river.