It was a beautiful day today, about 65 degrees and sunny. Kevin was sitting in our backyard, taking a break from shoveling compost when a trout feeding frenzy erupted right in front of him.
Trout are enigmatic creatures. Often, when you can see them breaking the surface right in front of you, they’re very difficult to catch. They’ve got their little fishy minds on one specific kind of prey, and unless you’re something out of A River Runs Through It, you’re not going to fool them into thinking you’ve got what they want.
But Kevin couldn’t help himself. He ran into the basement, pulled on his waders, and grabbed a fishing rod, a gold spoon lure already on it. In ten casts, he hooked five fish and landed two.
That happens with bluefish, but it doesn’t happen with trout. It just doesn’t.
Where was I while all the excitement was going down? Heedlessly planting arugula seedlings in between the rows of romaine in the cold frame. Kevin called me, but I was listening to an audiobook (A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book) and I didn’t hear him. I only found out about the great sport I missed when I went down to the pond to fill the watering can.
I went for my waders while Kevin outfitted another rod, and we both went back in, but it was too late. They were gone.
I gutted the fish in the pond while Kevin made a few more casts, but two was all we were destined to catch today. One of them even had roe, but it was immature – not the beautiful, bright orange beads that I’ve only found once. (Don’t mourn for the unborn fish – our pond is stocked and the trout don’t breed in it.)
I’m beginning to learn how to catch them. I certainly know how to cook them. The only thing I absolutely can’t do is identify them. Last year, we caught mostly what I suspected were rainbows. These two are something else, but I don’t know what. I don’t think they’re brown. Speckled? Shasta? If anyone can help me ID these two, I’d be grateful.