Could Be the Buckeye

Clear Creek. I go upstream.

The water is up by several feet.

I tie on something bright and flashy and plumb the depths. Nothing.

I cross at the rapids. Takes a little more care today.

The fisherman's trail is thinning out. The nature preserve sign, usually hidden, stands out.

At the riffles I tie on a new smallmouth muddler and go to work.

I find a buckeye nestled in the river rocks. I only see the one. It came from upstream somewhere. I pick it up and put it in my pocket. They're said to bring luck.

Downstream a bit the fly curls around a rock and a smallmouth strikes. Could be the buckeye.

As I bring the fish in two guys come up behind me and pass me by. I fish slow to give them a chance to get ahead, but they're slow, too. They will dog my footsteps the rest of the evening.

They take a break along the bank so I wade ahead of them. Want to work around the island before they get to it.

Things look good. The high water gives me high hopes for this run.

While I'm fishing it a little dog comes along. He, too, has been dogging my footsteps. I assume he belongs to the two guys behind me. I like him. He's small in size but big of heart.

The run doesn't give up any fish. I start the slog back as the two others come up to the island.

I fish the rapids at the top again. Nothing. I need some more buckeyes.

Back at the truck two other dogs are waiting beside the other vehicle. They're happy to see me, until the other guys come out of the woods, right on my heels.