Misunderstood Neighbor

“What do you suppose has them so upset?” Mary asked as she stood looking out the sliding door leading onto the covered porch. Outside, a handful of titmice raucously fretted, hopping excitedly between the porch railing and the holly tree that infringes into the space. Something was up.

Curious, I joined her at the door to figure out what their issue was. As Mary peered intently into the holly and the woods beyond, I looked down and there, eight inches from our toes, on the other side of the glass, was a four foot black rat snake, stretched across the jam, looking back in at us. I pointed down. Mary’s eyes followed and she calmly replied, “Well, I guess that would do it”.

Neuse Wading

A quick thanks to my new buddy John, the Neusewader, for a fine Saturday morning fishing the Neuse River, my first time on that waterway. We waded about a half-mile of the river, a bit downstream of Falls Lake Dam, chasing largemouths and any overly aggressive, and unlucky, bream that could handle a 1/0 hook. With a hot day on the way, we took advantage of a perfect North Carolina morning, fished a few hours, and called it a day before the summer sun settled in.

White Buck

Albino buck, or bigfoot... You decide.
Stumbling through the house this morning at much too early an hour, I glanced out a side window and noticed that there was something odd in the woods, some forty yards from the house, behind the compost pile. A quick eye rub and a clearer look revealed that it was only Whitey, settled down for the evening. I'd never seen him bedding this far down the ridge.

Explaining the New Fly Rod

Mary just doesn't get it.

“Is that your new fishing pole?” she asked as I excitedly opened the Cabelas package that the UPS guy had just dropped on our doorstep.

“It’s not a fishing pole, it’s a fly rod”, I replied. “A Redington Predator”.

“And why again do you need another fly rod?”, she politely asked.

The Fawn

This post was supposed to be about my triumphant return to real fishing following my fractured ankle. I was going to tell about skipping my favorite Haw River haunts in favor of a spot with easier access and easier wading (if such a thing exists on the Haw) and about how my new Redington Predator fly rod worked out and how I caught several 10-12 inch largemouths and especially about how much my ankle hurts right now, but in a “pain is weakness leaving the body” kind of way. It was going to be a great post. But it all went out the window when I saw the fawn.

Sunny Days

What would southern fly fishing be without brim? Be it bluegill, pumpkinseed, sunfish, shellcrackers, crappies, whatever, there's something quintessentially Carolinian about taking a whippy little 3wt fly rod and a rubber legged yellow popper and catching a big mess of panfish. It just feels like down home.