Wildlife Sightings

Date: May 27, 2007
Location: Kinda new spot on the Curd
Air temp: low 70s
Water temp: ??? (I really need to buy some new batteries)
Hatches: not much
Fish landed: zip

Present members of the Fly Anglers Guild :|: Upper Midwest Chapter, for this outing were:

Xan

Non members:
Mark


Mark and I headed out to the Curd, to a spot near the EPB&G. I had been there once before, though had never fished it.

There were a few cars along the way to the parking area, and a number of them at said area. Normally I would drive off to another spot, but due to my curiosity and Mark's success here in the winter, we decided to forge ahead.

Befitting the number of cars, the river was packed with fisherman. After a short hike down the river, we found a pool that Mark decided to try out. I went further downstream, finding numerous runs already spoken for.

I finally found a decent looking run, and proceeded to nymph away. After a mess of snags and no fish, I headed down to a small riffle. The trout stuck a few times, but my reflexes were slow, and the fortunes did not smile on a slow hook set.

In the midst of my poor concentration, I happened to glimpse through the brush, at what appeared to be an attractive young lady, jogging on the path along the river. As she got closer to where I was standing, I glanced again and noticed she was bobbing up and down and kinda tall. She rode up on a large horse to where the path met the river. She saw me and gestured, asking if it was cool if she crossed downstream from me. I nodded, and in that time, a number of other horse-people had gathered behind her.

They proceeded to cross slowly as the horses found their balance amongst the rocks in the stream. One by one by one by one by one by one by one by one they crossed. I looked down the path and saw an unbroken line of horses. As the 8th Cavalry strode through, a few of the horse-people asked me how the fishing was. Others apologized for disrupting the spot. And, in a display of true Wisconsin hospitality and decorum, a cougar offered me a beer from the saddle bag on her steed. It was a "girlie" beer, as she referred to the 8oz mini can of Bud Light (or Miller Light, the historical accuracy of this moment has been lost to time), but it was gratefully accepted.

I began to enjoy my beer as the hordes continued to move past. After the last horse had crossed, I walked slightly downstream to the next run. As I fished and drank at the same time, I noticed the horse-people had given me yet another gift. The run I was fishing was far enough downstream to where the fish were not spooked, but also the recipient of all the mud and silt they had kicked up. On a bright day with clear water, I finally had some tint to obscure me from the fish.

Of course, when I have a beer in one hand and my fly rod in the other, and a lack of concentration to boot, the fish that did hit only got a gentle tug, as I clumsily tried to set the hook.

Continuing my goose egg, I headed not far down to fish a deeper run. Mark met up with me and we kept our skunking alive. While I was aimlessly waving my rod in the wind, an interesting thing happened. When fishing, I tend to focus on a chunk of a river, and block out everything else. I heard a loud splash just upstream from my current chunk, where a fish had been rising earlier. I looked up to see a crane standing in that spot along the bank, with a decent trout in its mouth. The trout struggled, with the crane giving a few twists of its neck, and then, it gulped down the fish, sliding it down its gullet.

Well, at least someone was catching fish. Mark and I headed out and got some spicy curds to call it a day.