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River Report - April 9, 2021
Old AuSable Fly Shop River Report
The Spring Peeper as peeping! Those little frogs singing in the vernal ponds are truly the first and best signal of Spring. They started screaming a few days ago and, shortly after, Hendricksons hatched on the River.
That’s right the Hendrickson hatch has begun to trickle. Fish have barely taken notice, but with more seasonable weather in the forecast that are highlighted by cloudy damp afternoons, trout will rise greedily very soon. I hope.
This is and early dry fly season on the Au Sable River. We don’t get many and they are more precious than any gem.
When I tip a winter cocktail with my ardent, angling friends, we speak about “remember that Hendrickson day on the South” or “man, that time we fished Hedricksons on the North - when you caught that fat one that flapped out of the net? You missed it the first time, remember? And then it came back up. They don’t do that in July.”
“When was that?”
“Two years ago?”
“No that was right after . . . when you got that Jeep . . . when Pip was just two years old.”
“Man, that was like ten years ago.”
Seasons like these are hen’s teeth. Rare. Special.
They are the single greatest reason I live here.
You should get fishing soon. There are too few seasons—for all of us.
Water temperatures have driven sharply into the mid-fifties. Fifty-four to fifty-six degrees warmth gets bugs hatching this time of year and coincides nicely with a switch-turn of a trout’s metabolism. Fish that have barely fed all winter have to put on a feed bag and the Hendricksons appear as a movable, floating feast. It’s a meeting of worlds. A symbiotic relationship forged in the woods and waters over the soils of time.
I hope everything keeps co-operating. I hope cold fronts stay away. I hope I’m standing in the River with cold water lapping against my knees and am planted in the middle of another memory. I hope.
There simply is no better experience in the outdoors than fooling your quarry in a game where they have written all of the rules. You have to play it their way and you have to be there to take advantage.
There were times when I’d have rather had it all to myself. I don’t feel that way now. I like the stories. I like having things in common. I need more people that feel the way I do and find agree.
Guides are available this week to take you there, and there are going to be some fine days on the water.
Try to sleep. I won’t.
Here’s to a new season!
Andy
The Spring Peeper as peeping! Those little frogs singing in the vernal ponds are truly the first and best signal of Spring. They started screaming a few days ago and, shortly after, Hendricksons hatched on the River.
That’s right the Hendrickson hatch has begun to trickle. Fish have barely taken notice, but with more seasonable weather in the forecast that are highlighted by cloudy damp afternoons, trout will rise greedily very soon. I hope.
This is and early dry fly season on the Au Sable River. We don’t get many and they are more precious than any gem.
When I tip a winter cocktail with my ardent, angling friends, we speak about “remember that Hendrickson day on the South” or “man, that time we fished Hedricksons on the North - when you caught that fat one that flapped out of the net? You missed it the first time, remember? And then it came back up. They don’t do that in July.”
“When was that?”
“Two years ago?”
“No that was right after . . . when you got that Jeep . . . when Pip was just two years old.”
“Man, that was like ten years ago.”
Seasons like these are hen’s teeth. Rare. Special.
They are the single greatest reason I live here.
You should get fishing soon. There are too few seasons—for all of us.
Water temperatures have driven sharply into the mid-fifties. Fifty-four to fifty-six degrees warmth gets bugs hatching this time of year and coincides nicely with a switch-turn of a trout’s metabolism. Fish that have barely fed all winter have to put on a feed bag and the Hendricksons appear as a movable, floating feast. It’s a meeting of worlds. A symbiotic relationship forged in the woods and waters over the soils of time.
I hope everything keeps co-operating. I hope cold fronts stay away. I hope I’m standing in the River with cold water lapping against my knees and am planted in the middle of another memory. I hope.
There simply is no better experience in the outdoors than fooling your quarry in a game where they have written all of the rules. You have to play it their way and you have to be there to take advantage.
There were times when I’d have rather had it all to myself. I don’t feel that way now. I like the stories. I like having things in common. I need more people that feel the way I do and find agree.
Guides are available this week to take you there, and there are going to be some fine days on the water.
Try to sleep. I won’t.
Here’s to a new season!
Andy