GILLS
Standing motionless on the bank of the pond, I watched as at least a half dozen fish rose towards the fly as if inspecting it's every piece of thread. Then suddenly, and for no apparent reason, the largest in the school closed the last few inches and sipped it in. For a second it simply hung suspended, as if contemplating spitting it out or not, when a lift of the rod set the hook kicked the palm-sized fish into high gear. With a whoop fit for setting the fly on a tarpon I played the little fish. It's slashing runs zigzagged back and forth through the pond as it fought much bigger than its size for more than a few minutes. Nevertheless, the little 3weight rod held to the task and I was soon admiring one of the brightest colored pan fish I had caught in years.