Yep, that's me trying to find a trout lurking under the waters of this quiet little stream. It was approaching dusk which should have been the perfect time for catching something, but alas, not one decided to latch on and grab a bite to eat.
It gave me time to work on my cast--wait on the back swing (or whatever they call it) and then thrust it towards the bubbles leisurely drifting by. No luck, not even my begging of, "Here fishy fishy fishy" spurred them on to take a nibble. Dogs or cats they are not. Apparently fish do not bite on command so I returned with an empty satchel but with a greater appreciation of fisherman Rob when he arrives home trout-less.
Slowly I am getting the hang of this sport but have found the peacefulness of fishing can be interrupted when the mosquitoes arrive... and then it is all abuzz with the noises of --swat, smack, get me out of here-- sounds that drive this fisherwoman back to the protective confines of her car.
Thanks for reading # 286 of 7777.
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