Be still and know that I am God.....

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

It was a gorgeous, sunny day - I had just moved to Montana a couple of months before. Now I was sitting in the bright sunshine on a gravel bar, the Gallatin River babbling happily beside me, fly rod in hand, a small fly tied securely to the hook at the end of my fly line.I had already tried casting a few times, but knew that if you make a commotion while wading up to your fishing spot, you need to wait awhile and get out of sight. 15 minutes, 30 minutes - no one could really say how long to wait - the fish you spooked might possibly decide it was safe again to feed and come out from hiding. So I sat down and willed myself to look away from the dazzling waters, training only my ears on the task at hand.I'd been told that a feeding fish made small splashes as he came up to nab a bug on the surface. You had to listen carefully, though. There was a lot of noise already - the river was garrulous that day - telling its secrets, babbling about sunshine and big fish hiding in the next hole upriver - but I tried not to listen. All I wanted to know was where the fish were in my little spot - "I don't care how big they are", I said out loud - "I just want to catch a fish - I mean trout", I added quickly. Yes, I had become a trout snob. No other fish would do - all I wanted to see was one of those marvelous,bejeweled creatures - lovely, linear, graceful, colorful. Rainbow, Brook, Brown or Cutthroat - I'd settle for any of the above.I sat there baking in the sun for awhile, looking at the wildflowers, watching the cottonwoods on the bank sway gently in the breeze. Then, a quick splash. Different from any other river sound I had heard until now. I smiled and carefully shifted my weight and got to my knees. A quick, simple flip of my line and my fly was in the water, floating naturally I hoped, but had no idea for sure....Nothing.Another quick flip of my line where I hoped I'd heard the sound coming from....A tug! The line resisted! A rock? A fish? I pulled my rod up like I'd been taught, taking the slack out of the line. The line moved around in the water...A fish??!!!"If it was snagged", I thought, "the line wouldn't be changing locations now would it?" I let the line/fish run a bit, then gently reeled it in, little by little. Don't want to break my line and let it get away. Easy now....there! I saw its nose, then its eye, then the rest of its sparkling, splashing, fighting-for-life-and-freedom little torso. Soon I was cradling it in my hand, marveling at its beauty. A brookie, small but gorgeous, shimmered there in my hand. I snapped a picture with the camera that dangled from my neck, then awkwardly eased the hook from its mouth. Before I was ready to say goodbye, the little fish had a big surge of strength, leaped from my hand and disappeared beneath the waters.I smiled up at the cottonwoods, and nodded, agreeing with them. Its a great day to be alive in Montana.

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

Thanks for the feedback! I've thought about writing for magazines, I just haven't followed through yet.....:0)

[Diane (Trosclair) Luebbers]

Thank you, Steve! You inspired me to publish another blog! :0)
Diane

[Steve Burch]

Really well said!