This trout came to hand as the result of a lot of choices.

I chose to do some work to find this fish. There are plenty of times when I just want to catch something. Bass, sunfish, and even trout will fit the bill. And they can be found with relative ease in water bodies all around me. While I’m not above stocked trout by any stretch of the imagination, the decision to find this fish was about one thing: wild.

I chose to research to find this fish. Guidebooks are helpful. The fly shop is a phenomenal resource. Because the authors of the former and the proprietors of the latter are anglers, they’re not going to divulge all their secrets. And while the state knows a lot, they only broadcast that which has a direct tie to tax dollars. Where are fish stocked? Where are fisheries protected? Getting into the nitty-gritty of the conservation data is where the truly interesting information pops up.

I chose to drive to find this fish. Again, there are trout very close to me in every direction of the compass rose. Those fish are fine, but they weren’t the fish I was looking for. They don’t exemplify the kind of experience I was looking for. Living in suburban New England, there are two situations that allow for wild trout. First? Distance. You have to go far away from the sprawl. Second? A hidden gem. That was what I was banking on. I had to go, but not that far.

I chose to hike to find this fish. If you can park right next to the stream, someone else can park next to the stream. Along with easy access comes worm cups, Bud Lite cans, and no fish. If you can park and then walk, that cuts down on the people and increases the chances of fish populations. In my experience, there is a positive trend in this direction. Walk farther; find more fish.

I chose to hike slowly and carefully to find this fish. I’m sensitive to the fact that wild trout like the ones I’m chasing are one industrial runoff event or poaching local away from decimation. I parked inconspicuously. I dressed in my car. I wore drab clothing. I slunk through the woods, staying on public lands while skirting being in eyeshot of the homes on the ridge. It might have been overkill, but it felt like the right thing to do. And it was a little fun.

I chose to fish a dry fly on light tackle to find this fish. I love drifting a streamer downstream, maintaining tension and weaving the fly into hard-to-reach spots. It catches a lot of fish – including hungry brook trout. After all I had done to find this fish, I wanted to catch it with a traditional dry presentation. That meant crawling to prospect. That meant taking a wide berth. That meant one, two casts at the most. That meant one, two chances at the most. I didn’t have to fish that way. I chose to.

This seven-inch, wild brook trout came to hand as the result of a lot of choices. I don’t have to fish this way, but I often do. That is a choice I made a long time ago. And it is one I never regret.