The Pull of a Trout- by David Mann

As the car crawls down the old, dusty road, I am filled with anticipation. Around the next corner, I will be able to see the stream. There it is. A ghost-like fog hangs over the clear, rushing water. As I leave the car and enter the fresh, crisp world of a spring day, I have a feeling this is going just what I need to get my mind back in a position to face the world at large. I slip my waders on, rig my rod, and begin the short walk to the stream. When I arrive, I reach down and put my hand in the stream. Yes, this is the cold, clean water that I have come to know and love. I quietly wade upstream a few hundred steps, until I reach a pool of beauty beyond describing. A fast riffle rushes in at the top, and the water becomes slow, deep, and a perfect hangout for an elusive wild rainbow. I take a few casts into the pool with no result. Then on the next cast, I feel the sharp pull of a trout.

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The fish takes a hard run to the other side of the pool. Then it takes the air, and shakes its head with the fury that only a wild trout can show. After a few minutes, I tire the fish, and bring him to the net. The pink stripe coursing down it side is pecked with small black dots. This is truly a perfect fish. I rejoice for a moment at my catch, and slowly and gently slip him back in the water. It was truly a thing of beauty.

After a while I decide to take a break and rest. I leave the stream, and find a nice clearing near the water. As I lie there, I feel the simultaneous rush of cool wind and warm sun. I hear a bird singing its song, and with the rushing stream in the background, I feel a perfect, natural happiness.