WHEN THE BUG BITES


The boil that consumed my deer hair popper was substantial. I set the hook on an obviously good fish, finning quickly to my left as it dogged toward a partially submerged deadfall. It was a determined fish and a great fish to fight on a glass rod which made me chuckle out loud as it played itself out. Bringing it up on the mesh apron of my tube I admired the colors. A heavy shouldered, bronze breasted fish, I was surprised the big male was still hanging so tight to the edges this late in the season. Letting it slip back into the water, it was kind enough to tail water in my face as a thank you for all my efforts. When behind me I voice chimed in?"Was that a bluegill?"