On last week’s trip to the stream, Queen Anne’s Lace and the delicate blue flowers of Chicory waved in the breeze as I pulled on wet wader socks and boots. An 8½-foot 4wt. rod was chosen to deliver size-10 streamers on a slow sinking intermediate line. A tall, heavily forested west bank bluff shaded a long pool from the summer sun. I entered the cool water and immediately sought the comfort of a streamside log to watch for insect and fish activity. A hatch of size-16 caddisflies emerged to rise into the over-hanging tree branches while others danced just inches above the calm water. I wondered if my fly choice was wrong and considered changing flies despite the lack of any visible evidence of feeding fish. My contemplation was interrupted by a spray of minnows along the far shoreline trailed closely by bulging water which indicated a smallmouth bass was likely in pursuit. A Black Ghost Streamer was loop-knotted to 3X tippet and sent down and across the stream to reach 2-feet of depth as it swept past a submerged boulder. The first strip of line was interrupted by a solid hit, and the hookset sent the 12-inch bass into a series of frantic leaps punctuated by rod-tip bouncing dashes for freedom. Finally, in hand, the bronze battler glared at its captor through red eyes, conveying its willingness to continue the altercation. It was the evening’s biggest fish, but 10 other smallies demonstrated the same fighting spirit.