"Perhaps fishing is, for me, only an excuse to be
near rivers. If so, I'm glad I thought of it."
- Roderick Haig-Brown
Early afternoon. A hot ninety-five degrees and humid. Typical summer water level - low. Tossed a rod in the boat and a small assortment of flies and accessories in the river bag. Usually reserve early morning or late afternoon thru evening for fishing the open river. Not bright, sunny midday. The primary objective was paddling. Our circuitous "river trail" route. Considering that we'd purchased our fishing license for the current season just a few days earlier, we figured that we'd hit up an en route and interesting looking, large rivers edge sandstone rock slab. If not decent fishing, at least a hangout spot as the flat surface of the sun baked boulder sported a one-shot natural log bench of driftwood sycamore.
The facing riverfront was shoal (darn near wet rocks) and a bit swift. A merger of shallow runs and micro pockets. Not our favorite angling waters. Gonna' be nothing but slack, short drifts. Seldom fished conditions for us. Repetitive, constant motion. But more work equals more fun we figure.
Although we knew better, first cast we let a small minnow streamer long drift to straight line and snag in the fissured rock river bottom. We switched to one of three wet flies we carried and similarly lost that and the one to follow before getting our act together. The next solid three-quarter hour of repetitious casting went by quick. Time flies when you're having fun. But we knew that we were merely dawdling in the hot sun.
Opposite shore line, maybe a football field length distance, we spot a soaring raptor rapidly making his way down river, skirting the tree tops. As we spot him he apparently spots us. He makes an abrupt ninety degree turn and is now flying directly toward our position. Can't quite make 'em out. Appears to be a hawk. He's pretty dark in plumage. Looks to be a lot bigger. Possible Osprey. As quick as we can clear another thought he's coming in fast and low. Practically water level. And directly toward us. We're ready to duck cover. About head level and twenty feet out he makes an aerobatic sixty degree roll back to river north and we get an excellent view of 'em. Wings full splay. At least six foot tip-to-tip. Almost slow motion in his control. Poetry in motion as they say. Could have probably counted the tail feathers. It's a juvenile bald eagle. And gripped in his talons he's carrying an aerodynamic aligned mid-afternoon lunch of golden rainbow trout (aka palomino trout). Pretty good size, too. We know that in the recent stocking the palominos were all on the order of a girthy ten inches plus. At closest range we probably could have reached out and tapped 'em with the tip of our eight foot six inch five weight. Totally silent in his glide until his flapping acceleration once past and return to his downstream heading.
(Internet Image)
Bald Eagle plumage
That's exactly our close range perspective of his soaring turn, with palomino in talon
(Internet Image)
Golden Rainbow Trout (aka Palomino Trout)
We're pretty definite that the young eagle was attracted to our yellow colored OC1. Probably thought that he was locked on to a whale of a palomino. Or, considering the coverage of the whitewash on the rock, maybe we were intruding upon his dinner table. We're stickin' with the former.
