The wild sounds of hundreds of geese dominated the river valley as I crunched along a gravel bar toward a favorite pool. The river widens where a spring branch enters, delivering a year around infusion of 54-degree water. Just below the spring’s entrance is a deep brush-filled pool. The river water tested a chilly 49 degrees, but I hoped the spring would elevate that small area a couple of degrees. A size 12 black fly we named “Brim Reaper” was knotted to a 4X tippet and cast to the upstream edge of the deep trough. It drifted for several counts before a slow strip was imparted. The third drift provided the familiar “tap-tap” strike indication, but my lift-set strike was much too quick, resulting in a missed fish. Four drifts later, the hit was answered with a deliberate strip set, and the accompanying beautiful vibrations produced a bent rod and a smile. Three more of the 7- to 7½ inch bluegills were brought to hand before a decided lull in the action sent me to a comfortable log. A small thermos of coffee was retrieved from my vest and enjoyed as I watched a pair of gray squirrels chase each other along leafless tree branches. After resting the pool for twenty minutes, I reentered the water, and three more bluegills were caught and released before a final trek back to the SUV. Sometimes satisfaction emanates from limited success accomplished under adverse circumstances.
Early Winter Stream Bluegills
