It was a quiet evening, and I was alone at the south end. The wind blew for awhile, so I trolled, paddling away my tension and stress. I caught four fish. Two were decent, though one of those came off before I had him in the net. Two were small, one of which I netted for a photo, the other of which I released in the water.
Then the wind dropped off and all became calm. I found myself lulled into drowsiness by tawny light and the songs of the crickets. So I tied on a dry, a mayfly, inspired by one I saw hatch, and went hunting in the jungle of weeds.
But the fish were taking a respite, too. A few small fish were rising, but the Rise never happened. I did catch a bat. He received the long distance release and flew away nicked and perhaps wiser.
It was still dusk when I decided not to troll into the darkness. I was content and rested. So I packed up and headed for home. I got home at 8:30. Oh my. These rapidly shortening days are a constant reminder of the long respite just ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment