Floatin' the New

Po’ Boy says it’s like fly fishing from your living room easy chair. I’d agree, providing you insert the phrase “demonically possessed” between the words “your” and “living room easy chair”. Oh, and you stay soaked to the waist, not normal for my living room.

Kidding aside, there are few better ways to spend a pleasant summer afternoon than floating lazily down a foothills river with a fly rod in your hand.

Electric Blue III

Another bright little guy, a skink, defies the conventional woodland color scheme...

...while his chameleon cousin plays it safe.

Just a Couple of Flies

This is what I carry for chasing river largemouths.

This is what I almost always end up using.
It’s sort of like lugging your whole golf bag around the miniature golf course, thinking you just might need any one of those clubs. “Let’s see. The windmill hole. 9 iron and chip it? No, I think I’ll use…my putter again.”

Electric Blue II

Around here, the wildlife typically chooses to wrap itself in the safe, natural browns and greens of the surrounding woodlands and streams. But now and then a species aspires to more, sets side this safe, earthly pallet, and dons the color of the sky. Whether it's the neon warpaint of the feisty bluegill, the cheery flash of the nesting bluebird, or the deep royal majesty of the butterfly pictured above, they say "Look at, appreciate, me".

And we do.

Chocolate Yadkin

Sad to say, fishing has been a little slow for me as of late. Ongoing ankle recovery, high school soccer tryouts, and some work being done around the house all have conspired to keep me off the water more than I would have liked these past few weeks. But today, with finally a free morning, I jumped into the truck and drove a couple hours west to Pilot Mountain State Park, hoping to pull a few smallmouth bass from the Yadkin River.

Electric Blue

Like somebody flipped on a switch
Sometimes bluegill colors can simply knock your wading socks off. Add a little Carolina summer sun and you had better be wearing your polarized lenses. Thanks to this ambitious little Neuse River 'gill for bringing a ray of sunshine to my fishing afternoon.

Misunderstood Neighbor

“What do you suppose has them so upset?” Mary asked as she stood looking out the sliding door leading onto the covered porch. Outside, a handful of titmice raucously fretted, hopping excitedly between the porch railing and the holly tree that infringes into the space. Something was up.

Curious, I joined her at the door to figure out what their issue was. As Mary peered intently into the holly and the woods beyond, I looked down and there, eight inches from our toes, on the other side of the glass, was a four foot black rat snake, stretched across the jam, looking back in at us. I pointed down. Mary’s eyes followed and she calmly replied, “Well, I guess that would do it”.

Neuse Wading

A quick thanks to my new buddy John, the Neusewader, for a fine Saturday morning fishing the Neuse River, my first time on that waterway. We waded about a half-mile of the river, a bit downstream of Falls Lake Dam, chasing largemouths and any overly aggressive, and unlucky, bream that could handle a 1/0 hook. With a hot day on the way, we took advantage of a perfect North Carolina morning, fished a few hours, and called it a day before the summer sun settled in.

White Buck

Albino buck, or bigfoot... You decide.
Stumbling through the house this morning at much too early an hour, I glanced out a side window and noticed that there was something odd in the woods, some forty yards from the house, behind the compost pile. A quick eye rub and a clearer look revealed that it was only Whitey, settled down for the evening. I'd never seen him bedding this far down the ridge.

Explaining the New Fly Rod

Mary just doesn't get it.

“Is that your new fishing pole?” she asked as I excitedly opened the Cabelas package that the UPS guy had just dropped on our doorstep.

“It’s not a fishing pole, it’s a fly rod”, I replied. “A Redington Predator”.

“And why again do you need another fly rod?”, she politely asked.