#28 Au Sable River, Michigan

I fished just briefly on the main branch at the end of an evening that brought a good hatch but not enough feeding fish. I was trying out a new glow-in-the-dark Hex fly given to me by Dave McIntyre (Dry Fly Float Boats). Just shine a light on it and it glows as it floats down the river. Roger Odell and Tom Whalen were watching as a good size fish was decieved into striking the fake food. Not bad I thought, but not good either. I would learn the next night that the fly attracts fish alright but does not hookem. This is an amazing river. Perhaps the only river in Michigan were you can routinely catch 20+ inch natural river trout, thanks to stream restoration projects and religious catch-and-release practiced by the many fishers who frequent the stream. Old timers claim the fishery has never been better, at least in the last 80 years or so. The following poem by Buzzacott seems appropriate here. The poem's Piscator resorted to a spear just as I resorted to the glow bug, and we both got skunked as we "orter".

"That Trout"

I've watched that trout for days and days,

I've tried him with all sorts of tackle;

With flies got up in various ways,

Red, blue, green, gray and silver hackle.

I've tempted him with angle-dogs,

And grubs that must have been quite trying,

Thrown deftly in betwixt old logs,

Where probably he might be lying.

Sometimes I've had a vicious bite,

And as the silk was tautly running,

Have been conviced I had him quite;

But wasn't him - he was too cunning.

I've tried him when the silver moon

Shone on my dew-bespangled trousers,

With dartfish; but he was "too soon" -

Though, sooth too say, I caught some rousers.

I've often weighed him (with my eyes),

As he with most prodigious flounces

Rose to the surface after flies.

(He weighs four pounds and seven ounces).

I tried him - heaven absolve my soul -

With some outlandish, heathenly gearing -

A pronged machine stuck on a pole -

A process the boys call spearing.

I jabbed it at his dorsal fin

Six feet beneath the crystal water -

'Twas all too short. I tumbled in,

And got half drowned - just as I orter.

Thou piscatorial, speckled wonder,

Bright be the waters where you rise,

And green the banks you cuddle under,

Adieu, oh, trout of marvelous size!

Unknown Author