Fly rod in hand, always a bird dog out front leading the way down the old over-grown logging road I strode, to my favorite cold-mountain trout stream; whereupon the dry flies I tied will soon dance atop its beautiful singing-riffles and quiet pools - one I call "Treasure Pool." And with the walk always comes a flood of memories within my mind -- 50 years worth -- back to my boyhood days fishing it with grandpa and dad, to introducing my own son to its fly fishing pleasures. The trout here are not huge, in fact they are usually on the small size around 8 inches or so, but some will attain about 14 inches in size. They are however, beautifully hued, all native rainbows, and are excellent jumpers and fighters especially on a lightweight fly rod and hooked on a number 12-14 dry fly. The day is spent on the stream with the water ouzel as my only company, 'cept for my bird dog that has occasionally flushed a ruffed grouse therefrom the hardwoods. Content, I wish the day not to end as dusk nears, but in the fading light, with a few beautiful fish kept (many released) it's time to quit, knowing though in my heart and once again I've come "Home." And when I am gone from this planet or have moved onto other worlds, I suspect "Home Stream" will continue to endure long after my passing -- perhaps still whispering my name about its sparkling-murmuring waters...that I once loved it so . . .

KJM

(McPilchuck)

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