Nature's resiliency

Not a kayak fishing report, but I thought worth sharing:

I'm sure most people on this forum are intimately familiar with the effects of the drought over the last couple of years, and have been celebrating the reprieve that's been offered by the steady supply of winter storms over the last few months. While we're not necessarily back to 'normal' (whatever that may be), at least mother nature has made some deposits back in the aquatic bank for this summer.

I went out to the East Walker back in early October, just to check out the scene, and it was pretty depressing. The Walker, traditionally a phenomenal brown trout fishery, looked like a drainage ditch. Thankfully, I think most anglers let it rest over the fall, in the hopes that anything that made it through the summer might have a chance if winter snows could recharge it. My assessment at that time, probably the lowest it's been in several decades, was that it was probably a foolish hope to think that any fish had survived.

Well...I went out this afternoon, more on a scouting mission than anything else, and I am happy to report that it looks like the river made it. Flows were pretty good for late March, and while there wasn't the traditional bevy of surface action one would expect, there were at least a few active fish, including the one that fell victim to my streamer. As icing on the cake, he fought hard, was very healthy, and after my quick inspection happily swam off to continue his mission of re-gentrifying the neighborhood. I would love to know his story of how he survived last summer, but perhaps it's better that he and his comrades keep that secret to themselves, lest the mysteries of the natural world cease to amaze.

I think there's a heartening lesson here. If this little anecdote demonstrates anything, it is that if mother nature is given the opportunity to heal herself, she will often do so in ways that far exceed our expectations.

Thanks for the commentary, your writing style is pretty neat, adds a little rhythm and resonance to your story.

I was taking a walk thru the hills not too far from home the other day, and was commenting to the GF the things I saw that weren't there over the last few springs, in particular a vernal pool that was a breeding place for tree frogs and a few different species of salamander, I wondered how they had been doing as that pool has been non existent for the last few years.  It took me awhile to find what I was looking for but they were there.

I enjoyed reading your report. Glad to hear that things are slowly returning to what they used to be. My wife and I fish the Walker every year. That seems to be her favorite place to fish. I always enjoy watching her stand in the river with not a care in the world. It's always fun to watch her bring a brown onto shore. A lot screaming and shouting going on (what do I do ?). Always good for a laugh. Time goes by fast in places like that, always leave with a promise to return.

Great Post! Well written and heart warming. Love the title too!

Nice, TJ!

I lived in Arizona for several years, and had a good friend who worked for Game and Fish.  He would share stories and pics from electro-fishing surveys. Tiny intermittent streams in the desert, ones so small you could hop over, would produce 20"+ browns - usually pretty snakeheaded hungry looking things.  Apparently, water would continue to flow through the gravel, stay cool enough for the browns (not cool enough for the rainbows) and keep the browns alive until the next time there were bigger flows.  It doesn't hurt to have a slow metabolism, either...

Nature is awesome, and no better way to know her than trout!

Good write-up and observations and a pretty brown.  We can only hope that all the native aquatic species that get munched on by browns and other invasive "game" fish are as resilient.  I like fishing for them as much as the next guy, and can predict the responses, but am continually stuck by the irony in how most people (both nature lovers and anti-predator types) give these fish a free ride. My choice is to kill every brown I catch (when regulations allow) to give the native fish a chance.   

Just some food for thought.

GLad to see some survivors, those small rivers and streams can be the hardest hit, by lack of water it seems in a drought year. Pretty little brown!