I’m ready to go fishing. And other than the occasional thunderstorm or spate of gale-force wind, the weather’s perfect for fishing.
We’ve had some spectacular days the last few weeks. Unfortunately, most of them have come along in the middle of the work week, and the afternoon rain storms have put the kibosh on post-work fishing trips. But one of these weekends, I’m hoping the weather and the calendar line up just right and give us a perfect couple of work-free days to enjoy out on the lake or stream.
I’m ready for it. I’ve got the fly rod, a spinning rod, and all the flies and lures needed for both already loaded up in the truck’s tool box. I could be on the banks of the beaver ponds in the Pole Mountain in under an hour, if the conditions and responsibilities give me the opportunity. One minute I could be throwing hay to the cows, and 60 minutes later, I could be tossing jitterbugs to brook trout.
On the subject of those brookies, I saw a post on the Yep, I’m From Wyoming page on Facebook the other day that got me thinking. Somebody had posted a picture of a mess of brook trout they’d caught, and they commented that “nothing says Wyoming more than a stringer of brookies.” While I appreciate the sentiment, brook trout are not native to the Cowboy State. The only trout we have in Wyoming that are not transplanted from other states are cutthroats. Rainbows, browns, goldens, and brookies are all immigrants.
But then again, so are some of Wyoming’s best people. It takes a certain kind of person to move here and embrace the wind, the winters, the wide-open spaces and the other challenges. And brook trout have been adopted here just like many of those good people.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go see if I can meet some of those non-native Wyomingites.
