Beaver Talk & Brook Trout
I had a few minutes after work last evening and decided to drive a wee bit south of the border and see what a particular hole was like when the water wasn’t any longer at drought levels. It was perfect wading and fishing water. Just as the energy of the day is evaporating out of my soul like water from a glass and my mind slows to that easy fly fishing pace. Just as my grouse and green soft hackle is swinging through that trough where I know fish lie and I’m nearly hypnotized by the process—BANG-SLAP–like someone dropped a boulder into the river 25 feet upstream. Boy was I startled! When my nerves settled down, I tried to engage him in conversation promising that if he left me to my water then I would leave him to his newly felled tree that was another 25 feet down stream from where I was minding my own business fishing this trough.
I thought maybe we had a gentlemen’s agreement of sorts until about 5 moments later his tail met water in a near sonic boom at the downstream tree and just as my addled nerves were becoming unfreyed once again. Apparently, my beaver friend forgot our arrangement. He’d gone sub-surface on me and snuck by parallel to my fly line in one of his best stealth maneuvers and probably warning the other three or four brookies that I was set to catch. I had been tasked with picking up something for dinner, so I yielded to his persistence and walked away before a total loss of all dignity.