March 30, 2017
March 30, 2017
Last Friday I fished this rifle. Although I hoped for some early blue winged olives, stoneflies, and even to the task of my eyes midges on the surface, nothing was rising. Thus I nymphed. Choosing a midge and BWO pattern, I began picking apart this section of water. No one was around, I was fishing Spring Creek in central PA and although the water was warmer than the air temperature, the air temps kept anglers away. A couple of hours passed on the clock while I drifted tandem nymphs. The size 20 zebra midge was the ticket, hooking the majority of the wild trout, my presentation fooled. I landed nothing that one would classify as noteworthy, other than they were all wild. All were healthy, colorful, and ranging from 6 to 14 inches. Best of all, I was not distracted by anything except for a pause in my drift, most often it was the bottom, a rock, a mat of moss, occasionally it was a trout, as I had turned off all electronics. I nymphed several riffles last Friday, looking for rising fish in both the tail outs below and the pools above. None held risers. Optimistically I tied on a Griffiths gnat and a BWO emerger at the pool above, what my late father called “steps” riffle. Believing his divine intervention would cause fish to surface feed. I was wrong. Mother Nature is who dictates rising trout, not dad’s memory, nor my optimism. Certainly a fish will feed in front of me this spring. Until then, I have to be thankful for the fish feeding below the surface.