We jumped this young buck on the way in. Jeremiah took the picture out the truck window.
The lake calmed shortly after we got there, and we could see the Drakes rising out of clouds of dark caddis. Amazing, really. We were still up on a rise over the lake when Isaiah saw a Drake sailing for the sky, at eye level with us, and asked if that was one. Then, before I could answer, he said, "That bird got it!" The swallows, at least, were at work.
The same couldn't be said for the trout, who were pretty quiet. But we set up and threw a couple flies out into the hatch.
The boys did pretty well, stripping the fly in, making roll casts, or flipping the fly out. A few trout began rising, enough to get them real interested--and also more frustrated when they couldn't get the fly where they wanted it. And, I have to say, I was reminded that fishing from the bank isn't easy. There are countless places to snag and tangle, and I found my time taken up with dashing back and forth to remove flies from willows and sticks, untangle lines and leaders, and help cast the fly back out again.
But the Loons were there, and put on a display of calling, making long takeoffs, wings beating the water before they could get airborne, and then landing with great whooshes.
Isaiah made it on his own the longest, and called out once for me to come see a Drake hatching right at his feet. He watched as it wiggled out of the shuck, dried its wings and took off--right into a swallow's snapping beak. Has to be some kind of life lesson there.
But he also grew the most frustrated, and eventually gave up. That's him with his hoodie over his head. Jeremiah, meanwhile, was having a great time playing in the sand.
I saw a nice rise fairly close so took the opportunity to cast to it, and got a nice strong take. I handed the rod to Jeremiah, and he brought it in like a pro.
It was a nice Brown. I asked Isaiah if he wanted me to try to hook one for him, but he was done. He went up to the truck, and when I kept casting threw a stick down into the lake. OK, I get the point.
I was disappointed that things--once again--didn't go as I had hoped. But Jeremiah was in a great mood all the way home, and the first thing he said to me when he woke up this morning was that he wanted to go back. Alone.
I asked Isaiah if he would give it another try sometime soon, and was glad to hear him say he would. But alone.
Yes, that will be better. So I'll take them out separately soon, with the canoe this time. Only one rod to manage, and only me to snag the hook on and wrap the line around. That just might work if we can find an evening when the fish are working as hard as the Drakes and the Swallows.
Maybe then the boys can get more than just a taste; maybe the whole banquet.
That would be great.