Scientifically speaking, the eye can’t see cold. Ice and snow and the moisture in  breath that turns into condensation can be seen. But what is being seen isn’t cold.

Yet the eye can see when it is cold out. Aesthetics accomplish what science cannot. Everything looks more still. The entire world looks as if a color-reducing filter has been applied to it. Cool colors and grayscale overwhelm the landscape. Generally bright underbrush is frozen and muted. The cold presses down leaves and moss and even saplings, mitigating their ability to break up the scenery.

The only place that is somewhat untouched by the cold is the stream bottom. Even gently tumbling water creates a great sense of movement. The refraction and the glare highlight the mineral deposits in the river stones. Browns and grays that would be lifeless in the air sparkle and dance under the current. The water cuts a living seam through an  otherwise stark panorama.

Closer in, there is even more activity. Insects scurry over submerged stones and streamside snowbanks. For each noisy squirrel or solitary songbird there are dozens, if not hundreds, of bugs in motion. Some hatch, emerge, and take flight into the cold air. One insect flying from the water’s surface means that there are many doing the same thing. As difficult as these delicate flyers are to see on the water, they are much  more difficult to perceive once they are against the gray backdrop.

If the insects are there, often the trout are there as well. Their brilliant colors are distributed such that they blend in, regardless of the composition of what lies below them. Little motion is required in a healthy stream. Tail flicks, white-tipped fins, and bold feeding behavior are the only reason a trout will be seen. Yet when a fish senses danger it has the ability to swim with a remarkable stillness that will fool the most discerning eyes.

For the angler that fools a trout, on purpose or through dumb luck, the contrast of their quarry and their surroundings couldn’t be more noticeable. Bright red flanks, blue halos, and golden bellies make the fish seem almost exotic. Its being there almost seems wrong. Until it is released back into the stream. How rapid it disappears from the eye is a reminder that it is supposed to be there. Of course it isn’t supposed to be framed against the hillsides and underbrush. It is supposed to make a brief appearance. Then it is supposed to return to its current and its tail flicks and its life in the living seam.