Fischen Scheiße Nebenfluss

At least that’s how a website translated the title into German. I have no clue if it’s correct, but I like the way it sounds.

The majority of the day was spent meeting deadlines. Hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait. Me working from home and them sitting at the corporate headquarters of a major company in some northern Illinois suburb.

I knew we’d be done by 3 PM. It was the Friday before a holiday weekend. Nobody that works for a major corporation would stay till the end of the day right before a 3 day weekend. If they had bothered working at all.

Sure enough, at 3 PM we were done, bye, have a great weekend.

May as well go fishing now.

The rain of the past couple of days was substantial. My preference was to go fish a creek, but I already knew they were all blown out. I went out of my way to verify this while on my way to a Fox River high water spot. Sure enough, high, fast, muddy and not even worth going near. I had no choice but to employ high water fishing techniques on the river, which I’ve come to despise.

High water fishing reminds me of bank angling. Can’t stand doing that. I feel like an idiot standing on shore and fishing. Luckily I know the areas I fish well enough that I can still walk around in the water a bit even when it’s high. Up to a point. One incident of almost getting sucked under a log jam has me a bit leery, so now I keep a respectful distance from log jams.

Easy enough though, cast out to current seams, bring your lure in keeping it tight to shore (at your feet) and wait for a hit. Watched the first fish of the day hit a couple of times before I was able to hook it. I offered it up to the fishing gods, but they said it was too small.

Not for me.

The next one was a little better. The gods were pleased and spirited it away.

I wound up catching a half dozen of them. This time of year between the spawn and some pretty aggressive eating habits, the fish can start to look pretty beat up. Every one of them had something going on with their heads. Scratches, raw open wounds and most had fins that looked like they had been chewed on.

There was one stretch where I wasn’t comfortable being in the water. When that happens and I wind up on shore, I get easily distracted by my surroundings and go wandering off to find things to photograph, interesting or not.

I thought they were interesting at the time.

Then I would go back to fishing. In case you never noticed, in the pictures I take I try to show the cover or structure where the fish hit. I think this one is pretty obvious.

I’ve noticed that the big floodplain along this stretch is getting used more. So far the trash that comes along with use, especially the mountains of beer cans, has been concentrated in one area. But off in the woods someone is doing some exploring. Or just bored. Or building themselves someplace to live. I’ve built bonfires out of railroad ties that were bigger than this.

Eventually I got bored with the fishing and wandered around the floodplain. Sections of it were covered in phlox. Pretty much the last of the wild flowers that I could find. I could smell them before I could see them.

There were a few other flowering bushes in the area and it smelled like perfume in the air. At the house my ex now owns and my kids get to enjoy, I landscaped all around the house to take advantage of this spring perfume. Outside the kitchen window I planted a lilac bush. Under other windows I planted a variety of wild flowers, phlox being the most predominant. It’s scent seems to carry the furthest. In the spring, the house would smell wonderful.

I was going to hit another high water spot on the way home where I’ve been having a fair amount of success, but decided to just go home instead. Saturday will be another day. The creeks will be blown out, the river will be high. I’ll need to go out fishing, but I can’t do that again.

Instead I’ve decided to test my limits. I’ll be heading to a crystal clear lake that gets a tremendous amount of fishing pressure. I’ll walk the shores and fish, and I’ll catch fish. I know I will.

Maybe I’ll bring a lawn chair. A six pack of cheap beer. Throw the cans around when I’m done. Leave a worm container laying on the ground when I leave. A massive tangle of fishing line or two.

Nah, I’d have to have a lobotomy in order to behave like that.

But it will be a nice test. I know I’ll catch fish and then I won’t do it again till next spring.

Fishing like that once a year is more than enough.

More than that would require a lobotomy.