I recently acquired a copy of Fly Tying Illustrated: Flies You Can Count On To Catch Trout written by Tom Gauthier. Tom was born in Traverse City, Michigan, and has recently published his first book. A rather bold statement on the rear cover caught my eye and peaked my curiosity: "This book makes one promise. Use these flies and you will catch more trout more often." I just couldn't put it down.

I retired in January of this year and with my newly available spare time I have taken up fly-fishing after years of sporadic efforts to learn the sport. My father initially taught me how to cast in the mid-1970's and other than a few opportunities to catch bass in Alabama and a few Rainbow trout in the Arizona high-country I haven't had much experience fly-fishing. So this year I have spent time trout fishing with both of our sons, my oldest brother and my son-in-law across the country. As you can imagine, I have a very understanding wife (of almost 40 years now).

Minnesota became the 32nd state on May 11, 1858 and was originally settled by a lost tribe of Norwegians seeking refuge from the searing heat of Wisconsin's winters.

Minnesota gets its name from the Sioux Indian word "mah-nee-soo-tah," meaning, "No, really... They eat fish soaked in lye."

Around Livingston, three Paradise Valley spring creeks, technical waters of Yellowstone Park, and Yellowstone River, all host various kinds of mayflies. Everyone has his/her own favorite time and species (my favorite is baetis hatches in spring and fall). For those favorite mayflies of ours (and of trout), there are tons of patterns ever invented and tested. Some make to the bins of local fly-shops and others remain in personal boxes, if not in the garbage bag.

It was a day off and time to go fishing. I went to one of my favorite ponds that has not been visited for a long time. It was nice to see this pond again. I got the canoe off and all the gear loaded into the canoe. I had a 1 weight, two 3 weights and a 5 weight rod with me. I tied on a black fur flailed leech on one rod, a white boa yarn fly on another, a Goldie Jr on another and a popper midge on another one, and I was ready to fish.

If you are a Christian then you know that the birth of Jesus is the perfect gift, the reason of course for Christmas. We can't top that, but there is one nearly perfect gift which does not cost any money at all. That gift is time.

As a country we seem to grasp at whatever 'socially' correct teaching methods are being touted this year. Some schools systems go through total make-overs to gain a perceived advantage only to find the old basics really were better.

The parking lot is filled with boats and anglers, and the roar of the water coming through the afterbay dam mingles together in a cacophony of sounds that assaults the ears and stimulates senses. No matter how many times I launch a drift boat on the Big Horn River below after bay I am always filled with excitement and a sense of awe and appreciation of the privilege of having another day to fish this magnificent fishery.

Recently I found myself along a local stream, sitting on a large tree that had been shoved up onto the gravel bank during this summer's heavy storms. I had fished for a couple hours at this point, having already experienced success in bringing to hand several beautiful wild brown trout. My stopping was for no real reason, since I felt neither tired nor hungry at the moment, but the solace of the trees trunk beckoned me toward a comfortable perch with a view. The morning had shaped up well, with little breeze and only the slightest hint of heat or humidity.