Of course, being birds, there was no controlling where they were going to fly when released. The first did a 180 and flew to the woods across the road. Two others took a left and flew into the field next to us. The rest made it to the woods behind our field. And, at least for the next few days, it was cool hearing the roosters cackle and seeing a bird wander through the field. And then nature took its course. Put pen-raised pheasants in the wild, and it wasn't a surprise that the cackling stopped, and with it the birds. I hope the foxes, raccoons, and other critters enjoyed their pheasant dinners. As for the birds, well, they at least got a "taste" of freedom, pardon the pun.
Sunday, the "Trout Whisperer" and I took the ATV up to fish Fisk Hollow Run, a small Class A stream just up the road from the WBT. For once the weather cooperated; cloudy skies with temps in the 50s. The area was beautiful; the stream shaded by hemlocks and hardwoods. The cover made it tough casting, the norm when fishing "blue liners." But a tangle here and there was worth a little frustration, as we stuck a few wild Browns, and a native Brookie.
The weather was unpredictable over the next few days, so when conditions permitted I'd grab the rod and head down to the "crik" behind the WBT. I'm still not confident that the state stocked the west branch, but there are still a few trout in the normal holding spots. And they hammered Mary's Wooly "Blurplebugger," a black bugger with a purple bead-head, and purple flash in the tail. I fished that fly all week, and it never failed to at least get a take.
The forecast for Thursday pointed to improving conditions, so Bob and I decided to check out the east branch of Fishing Creek. Our first stop was at a spot that the state normally stocks, and we weren't disappointed, as each of us picked up a fish on the first few casts.
We moved downstream for a bit, not finding much in the way of good holding water, and in the spots that looked fishy, didn't move a trout. Hopping back in the vehicles, we drove upstream to another put-in spot. Once again, the water was low, although I managed a small Rainbow in the only fishy-looking pool I came across. Bob decided to call it a day. I decided to stick around, and remembered a nice pool just upstream of where we were parked. Last year I had caught a nice Rainbow in that pool, so I walked a hundred feet upstream to give it a shot. In a little over ten casts I got 2 Rainbows, one of which looked wild, and a nice Brownie that spit the bugger as I was getting ready to put him in the net. I figured that was about it for the east branch, so headed back to the WBT and managed three more fish, 2 at the Pavilion Hole, and the third in a nice bend just below.
Mary and I spent most of Saturday tilling soil to plant pollinators; my small contribution to the environment (and also a federally-funded program ... go figure). With a couple of hours left in the afternoon, I suited up and fished the west branch from the Pavilion Hole down about a half mile. Once again the Pavilion hole produced a decent-sized Rainbow.
But from the Pavilion things slowed down. I could only manage another hit downstream, and when I got to my final fishing spot, a really fishy-looking spot, I was honked off by a mother goose that took objection to me fishing so close to her nest.
Before heading back to the cabin, Mary and I sat at the Pavilion Hole for a cocktail and to enjoy the afternoon. Temps had reached into the low 60s, caddis's were dapping the surface of the stream laying eggs, and a gray mayfly or two flitted around. Not a bad way to finish the day.
And ... maybe, spring is finally here.
Tight Lines,
Mikey D Fishing
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