A Christmas Fish Story
Cold and wet. Rain, snow and sometimes wind. Normal weather for this time of year. Rivers swollen from the rain and melting snow. The rivers color changing from coffee with too much cream, to the color of canned peas, the soft ones. Text steelhead conditions !
It was known by everyone as “The tree hole”. Leading to it, a muddy well worn path, a trench with water still sitting in spots. Exposed roots worn bare where everyone steps. A deceiving little foot path that initiates every user by putting them horizontal in the mud at least once. Always a memorable experience.
Fly-fishermen love the “Tree hole” ! Usually unoccupied, more than ample back casting room and water deep enough not to see bottom and the water flowing at just the right speed. Across the water, growing out from the bank and leaning at an angle over the water with its lower branches close enough to the water to put a damper on casting, was a fir tree.
Flies used by flyfishermen come in a wide range of colors and sizes. Wonderful little ornaments, displayed in boxes, worn on hats and vests and often placed on bushes and trees. A small piece of bent metal, decorated, destined for the mouth of a fish. The latter being an unlikely final resting place.
Time had gone by and casting at the “Tree hole” had created a tree at the far shore with wonderful litle ornaments hung in almost every conceivable place. Early morning and late in the day the sun would be at just the right angle and the color and the sparkle of the flies on the tree were beautiful. A christmas tree on the river, some hand made ornaments, some store bought, all of them hung by people from all walks of life coming from all over, sort of a pilgrimage.
Anyone who claimed to be a “Dyed in the wool” flyfisherman had to fish the “Tree hole” at least once during the winters holiday’s. They all knew about the big fish that would be there. It was a story that was repeated by most and it didn’t vary much in details. Everyone experienced being at the pool and the water would explode with the launching of one of the largest steelhead anyone could imagine. The splash from the huge fish landing back in the water would have every witness swear they got wet from it. Of-course more than once it was coincidental that a fly had been cast into the vicinity of the launching fish. The astounded participant would automatically go into a lengthy detailed account as to how they could feel the giant on for a moment and then how suddenly he was gone. Most listening knew the truth. No one had ever hooked a fish there. Everyone wanted to be the first. Legends are born that way.
And now for the first time, the untold story.
I decided to spend a few hours on Christmas Eve at the “Tree hole”. The weather was perfect. It was only a short time and I had traditionally hung a couple of flies on the tree at the pool. It was a quiet evening and I was content to just be there. The night before I had spent the evening tying flies. Creating these small collections of feathers and fur can be quite therapeautic. As I opened my fly box which displayed my creations from the night before, one of them stood out. I had become sentimental and tied a fly with red and green material. A fly for the fly-tyer, not the fish. A Christmas fly !
Resolving myself to only loose one more fly, and the evenings darkness growing near, an idea came to mind. Why not try the Christmas fly. It was something that just seemed to fit the occasion. A few moments had gone by and I had tied the fly on and on the first cast I had hung my fly on one of the lower branches and snapped the line. It was hardly noticeable among all the other flies hanging there.
I was getting ready to leave, admiring what I thought was a natural Christmas tree when it happened.
From under the tree the largest fish imagineable launched itself up into the lower branches, disappearing for a moment. It started to come back into view on its way down into the water, only what I witnessed confused me for a moment. The fish was being lowered into the water in slow motion, tail first. As the head came into view the fish was holding a branch from the tree in its mouth, and the bending branch slowly lowered the fish. It seemed like forever, the fish ever so slowly being lowered back into the water. With just its head out of the water the fish gave one violent jerk, the branch went flying back up in to the tree, and the fish fell into the water.
It wasn’t a moment later the same fish came leaping out of the water, right in front of me, not a rod length away. Shaking its head violently, the foreign object in its mouth was shaken loose and thrown at me, landing somewhere at my feet. I never took my eyes off the fish and after it fell back into the water I stood there, eyes glued to the water, waiting. Time went by. Nothing !
I looked down at my feet. I was in shock ! I reached down and picked it up. I was holding my Christmas fly in my hand. There was no denying it, my elementary tying habits made the fly easily recognizeable.
Raising my eyes I could just barely see in the low light conditions the wake from a giant fish swimming downstream, out of sight.
A Christmas fish, under a Christmas tree, and in my fly box, a Christmas fly.
May all your Christmas Fishes come true !
Thanks bushbear
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Brian
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