Let’s talk about fishing—a pastime I’m revisiting after somewhat of a career induced pause that slowed my serious fishing activities. The concept of “serious fishing” varies from person to person, and much has changed since my carefree youth when I’d bike to a nearby brook to fish.

In this neck of the woods, the days of knowing every neighbor are gone. Gone are the friendly farmers’ greetings; now, it’s wary landowners with the game warden on speed dial.

Less than a mile from my childhood home, there’s a brook originating from a large, wildlife-rich swamp. It is several acres teaming with an abundance of wildlife. Hopping from clump to clump of earth, you’d be greeted by the distinct smell of the swamp. Smaller streams fed into the brook every few hundred yards, creating pools that often harbored a brook trout or two.

If you can imagine a small stream, a gentle brook, meandering quietly through a partly wooded area. Its waters were clear and cool, flowing over a bed of rocks and Boulders. The sound of the water was soft and soothing, a subtle symphony of ripples and gurgles that complements the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird. Sometimes it was possible to spot a whitetail deer or a red fox usually in retreat caused by our disturbance.

As the stream winds its way through the trees and fields, it creates small pools and eddies where fish hide in the shadows and insects skim the surface. The air is fresh and filled with the scent of pine and earth, a natural aroma that invites one to pause and breathe deeply.

Back then it wasn't noticed but this tranquil scene was a haven for wildlife and today would be a peaceful retreat for anyone seeking respite from the world’s hustle and bustle.

It’s a place where time would slow down, allowing nature’s quiet beauty to be truly appreciated

Every few hundred yards or so a smaller stream fed into this brook, draining the nearby farmland of its excess groundwater. Each of these entry points created a small deeper pool and would usually hold a brook trout or two. Together a friend and I would fish down this brook, leapfrogging the deepened pools in hope of finding such trout.

Leapfrogging was a term I made up for how we fished the brook. I would fish one of the sparkling holes, throwing the bait from a distance so as not to spook the trout. My partner would sneak around to the next hole. The brook trout were a bit spooky, so care needed to be taken to not be seen or heard.

How we learned this technique is a mystery, but it was most likely from reading books or magazines we’d pick up at the school library, or possibly talking to one of the local anglers ready to give such secrets to the younger generation.

One day as we were leapfrogging down the brook, eventually winding up a little farther than we usually went, typically not wanting the long tiresome and what we thought as a boring walk home, we spied the next small sparkling pool ahead of us. As we sometimes did, I was ready to watch as my friend pulled a trout from the pool. At times, watching was almost as much fun as the fishing, so I said, “this is your hole, see what is in there”.

This hole, or pool was at a sharp turn in the stream that undercut the bank with a washed-out tree root system. It seemed small and a bit uninviting because of its size. With a bit of a chuckle, I heard with a slight bit of sarcasm “I’ll let you have this one” and he started to sneak around to the next spot.

Not wanting to just walk by, but wanting to keep up, I quickly flipped the worm, which was wrapped limply around the hook into the water, not being too concerned at its approach. Before I had even followed through with the flip; it can’t really be called a cast, because I just flipped the worm a bit ahead of the pool, hoping it would float by like an unfortunate worm fallen into the brook. At that moment the water surface exploded with excitement.

I gently set the hook and began to land what would be my largest brook trout I had ever seen, and my buddy stood in aww, watching and wishing he could go back and fish his pool as it was dictated in the leapfrog sequence.

This brook trout was a sight to behold! It had a sleek, streamlined body with dark green to brown coloration. The skin was adorned with a distinctive marbled pattern of lighter shades, extending across the flanks and back, reaching the dorsal fin and tail. Along the sides, were sprinklings of red dots, each surrounded by blue halos, adding to the fish’s striking appearance.

If you do not already know, Brook Trout, often referred to as a ‘brookie’ or ‘speckled trout’, are not only beautiful but also an important species in its native habitat, contributing to the biodiversity of freshwater ecosystems

Brook Trout (Salvelinus fontinalis) are the only trout species native to New York and New England. They have been thriving in the cold-water streams and lakes of the East since the retreat of the continental glaciers across these regions. Brook trout are not only valued for their beauty but also serve as indicators of the health of the watersheds they inhabit, with strong populations signaling excellent water quality. They are a testament to the rich biodiversity and the ecological heritage of the northeastern United States.

Although that day we were young and at that part in our life shared the pleasures of the days. Back then we ate what we caught for more reasons than just because we could. Things are obviously different today, although the discussion of whether life is really better today is a discussion that would likely never be decided and it’s best to just cherish the memories.

Happy Fishing!