WHEN IT DOESN'T HAPPEN - neil - Aug 30, 2018

WHEN IT DOESN'T HAPPEN

For the past two plus decades I have enjoyed fishing the evening spinner falls and caddis egg-laying flights on my favorite local spring creek. I would slip out of the house about two hours before dark, which during the summer months here in Montana is close to 10 pm, and make the short drive to the creek. On many of those evenings I could expect to encounter clouds of mayfly spinners dancing over the fields. As soon as the sun began to push toward the western horizon and the evening shadows would begin to stretch across the stream the spinners would begin to appear over the water; dancing, mating and falling to the surface prostrate, their brief adult lives completed. The plethora of dying insects would bring the trout to the surface and for the waiting angler it was if heaven had briefly come down to earth. As the activity brought about by the dying mayfly spinners began to wane caddis flies, as if on cue, would magically appear to continue to attract the attention of the resident trout. As the last rays of light faded I would wade from the stream; satiated after another evening of great angling.