RAW
08-21-2005, 04:34 AM
Anthony drove to a neat little creek, full of native Bonniville cutts. He parked his truck in a little unimproved camping turnout, rigged up and then walked downstream along the gravel road until he found a place to enter the water.
As he made his way to the water a few hoppers jumped for safety. That would be his pattern of choice. Each little run in the clear creek rewarded Anthony with a beautiful trout. It was begininning to turn into a perfect day.
After fishing around the bend and toward the parked truck, Anthony thought he he could hear the sound of someone chopping wood. The only camping area in the vacinity was the one that Anthony was parked in. The next hole provided an opening in the willows where Anthony could see his parked truck. To his amazement, a truck and trailer had pulled into the camping area where he was parked.
The trailer was backed in as close to Anthony's truck as it could get. Anthony's first reaction was one of anger. He was in that camping spot first. How dare someone pull a trailer in there. What if Anthony was going to stay the night and pith a tent? What if he had other people coming to stay with him?
When Anthony got to the water adjacent to his truck he saw the young boy chopping wood. When the boy saw Anthony, he dropped the axe and came running down to the waters edge.
"Are there fish in there?" the boy asked.
"Sure, lots of them." was Anthony's reply.
The boys father wondered over and asked if they were brown trout.
Anthony said, "Cutthroats!"
The boys father gave a quick smile and said, "natives!"
"Yup," said Anthony. "Do you like fresh trout?"
"I do," said the father.
"Well, the limit is two fish. I'm just about done. Will you accept a couple if I catch and clean them for you?" asked Anthony.
The father and boy both responded with a loud, "Sure!"
Anthony quickly caught two fish waded to the bank and cleaned the catch. The father brought a plastic bag from his trailer and Anthony slipped them in the bag.
"Be sure to eat 'em tonight with your dinner," said Anthony.
"Sure will," the father said.
As Anthony drove away, he was glad he didn't say anything about the father and son moving into his camp. He wasn't staying overnight anyway. On the way home Anthony wondered about all the times he has been branded as an elitist snob because he fly fishes. Maybe, just maybe, a small boy and his dad will have a different view as the enjoy a trout with their dinner tonight.
As he made his way to the water a few hoppers jumped for safety. That would be his pattern of choice. Each little run in the clear creek rewarded Anthony with a beautiful trout. It was begininning to turn into a perfect day.
After fishing around the bend and toward the parked truck, Anthony thought he he could hear the sound of someone chopping wood. The only camping area in the vacinity was the one that Anthony was parked in. The next hole provided an opening in the willows where Anthony could see his parked truck. To his amazement, a truck and trailer had pulled into the camping area where he was parked.
The trailer was backed in as close to Anthony's truck as it could get. Anthony's first reaction was one of anger. He was in that camping spot first. How dare someone pull a trailer in there. What if Anthony was going to stay the night and pith a tent? What if he had other people coming to stay with him?
When Anthony got to the water adjacent to his truck he saw the young boy chopping wood. When the boy saw Anthony, he dropped the axe and came running down to the waters edge.
"Are there fish in there?" the boy asked.
"Sure, lots of them." was Anthony's reply.
The boys father wondered over and asked if they were brown trout.
Anthony said, "Cutthroats!"
The boys father gave a quick smile and said, "natives!"
"Yup," said Anthony. "Do you like fresh trout?"
"I do," said the father.
"Well, the limit is two fish. I'm just about done. Will you accept a couple if I catch and clean them for you?" asked Anthony.
The father and boy both responded with a loud, "Sure!"
Anthony quickly caught two fish waded to the bank and cleaned the catch. The father brought a plastic bag from his trailer and Anthony slipped them in the bag.
"Be sure to eat 'em tonight with your dinner," said Anthony.
"Sure will," the father said.
As Anthony drove away, he was glad he didn't say anything about the father and son moving into his camp. He wasn't staying overnight anyway. On the way home Anthony wondered about all the times he has been branded as an elitist snob because he fly fishes. Maybe, just maybe, a small boy and his dad will have a different view as the enjoy a trout with their dinner tonight.