Orange fins.
Blue halos around red dots.
Dark parr marks that span the vertical transition of vermiculated olive back to dusty golden sides.
That milky white belly.
I can not get enough. And I hope I never will.
As an eastern angler, and a passionate devotee of all things small stream, I think about juvenile brook trout like a new parent. Everyone thinks that their kid is the cutest, but I still know mine is the best.
The aesthetics of the fish and the surrounding environs are enough to brush of critiques about size, fight, and challenge. Size is relative. The fight is inconsequential. The challenge? You find these fish: that is the challenge. And it doesn’t hurt when they have a little bit of attitude about them, either. The reckless enthusiasm which propels them out of the water and through a bushy dry fly is commendable. I can’t help but smile.
Quite often, a particular small fish won’t be the biggest, brightest, or most memorable fish of the day. But on further reflection there is something special about a little trout. A little trout is an optimistic sign. It means something for a tiny stream in an area that is resisting suburban sprawl and recovering from centuries of pollution. A wild little trout proves that the other, bigger fish aren’t a spring-stocked fluke.
They are just little trout. Technically, they are char. But brookies are uniquely American, particularly Eastern, unequivocally Appalachian trout. The fact of the matter is, catching little fish like in little streams represents a lot of what is right about fly fishing. At the macro level, it represents challenge and pursuit and conservation and work and skill. It is more than fins and spots.
But it is certainly not less than fins and spots. Even little trout will keep me coming back. What might first appear to be just little trout are so much more.
I can not get enough. And I hope I never will.
This is a reworked version of an article from 2017 called “Just a Little Trout.” From time to time, I revisit older pieces to alter the voice or reflect some new perspective. They’re both me, and they’re both good on their own. But I have fun doing this; I hope you enjoy reading, too.