Catchin' and Cookin'


The evening called out to fly-fishers. The sun was low, the air barely stirred leaving a glassy surface on the narrow water, perfectly reflecting the newly leaved Cypress trees backlit by the pink and orange sky of sunset.

I grab my fly rod, a bead-headed prince nymph tied tightly to my leader and head for the creekbank. Easing up to the grassy edge I see three trout lazily swirling about the rocky bottom. I cast.

The snap of my line reminds me to contain my excitement and let the line straighten out behind me. My second attempt lands the fly gently on the water where it pauses for a moment before slowly sinking. I softly bump the line, and the movement attracts the attention of one hungry trout. He attacks, I let him turn and with a swift pop of my rod the game is on! He struggles to get away and I play with him, enjoying the feel of him moving on the end of my line. I pull him to shore and lift him out of the water. No monster, but being a cook I instantly begin thinking of lemon and butter.

I clean him and take him home where, wrapped in tinfoil and packed with butter, lemon and onion slices, and a pinch of salt and basil, I set him near hot coals. Fifteen minutes and a few turns later I am enjoying a fresh little chunk of heaven!


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