m&M: - Pennsylvania Fish and Boat Commission

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THE other day I tried to piece together the details of something that happened about three decades ago. Most of the pieces fell into line, but I could neither definitely recall the place nor the individuals concerned. Actually, if I correctly recollect, there were no names mentioned. It had to do with fishing, trout fishing, specifically. There was a clearing dominated by an old, tumble-down barn and an ancient watering trough marking the site of an old lumbering operation. Poised in the frigid water of the giant trough and all but hidden among the algal and moss growths was just about the largest brook trout I'd ever seen outside of an aquarium. The fish had arrayed itself next to the silvery downpour from a rust encrusted pipe, where it seemed perfectly at ease fanning its huge white-edged pectorals. I had just emerged from the woodland along with the stream I'd been fishing and came upon a lone fisherman brewing a pot of coffee. After exchanging the usual amenities he invited me to join him in a cup of the brew. Since it was near lunch time and the leaden April sky presaged snow I gladly accepted I guardedly looked over the strangely inscrutable features of the stranger as he impassively goaded the fire into renewed activity "Did you do any good in the stretch above the old barn?" I carefully probed. "I fished the smaller stream above where it joins the larger one below the clearing." 6 Enigmatic Trout By N. R. CAS1LLO loj( Article Written for The Pennsylvania Anglei By the late Mr. Catillo "Do any good?" I managed as impersonally as I could- "Well, I've got some fish which say I did pretty good. No busters, but nice frying size." At that he emp' tied his creel at my feet and a literal cascade of kaleid"' scopic colors tumbled out. "They're beautiful," I praised. "And all brookies, too- "Yeah, that little stream is alive with them. And whe" some of them make a go of it in the large stream they al e more than likely to reach a respectable size." I absently poked the fire as I felt his furtive gaze. * wouldn't mind seeing a big brook trout," I parried, "hil* I suppose they are a thing of the past." "Do you recall passing the little run that flows into tb« main stream just above the bridge?" "You mean the place that looks as if it was a hufl>P lifted by a hard freeze and then collapsing to form 9 channel from the swamp to the main stream?" "That was my diagnosis, too," he looked up and added' "anyway, on opening day my buddy pulled a thirteen inch brookie out of there. Rather slinky, but a nice fish' My thoughts reverted to that magnificent fish in the watering trough. No thirteen incher unless chunky ^ solid could compare with it. But how did it get there' If put there by some fisherman and then forgotten h e deserved to lose it. My companion seemed to divine my thoughts and cam e straight to the point. "Did you pass that watering trough back in the clearing?" As I leaned toward the fire I could feel his eyes borifo straight into the top of my head. "Well, yes," I admitt 6 " without looking up, but disclosed no more. "You didn't see what was in it?" "Well-," I hesitated. "Let's quit playing games," he interrupted. "Sui*'' you saw that big trout?" I admitted as much and went so far as to wonder ho* it got there. "I don't know, either, but what say we toss a coin *° it?" intoned the stranger as his face cracked into a rati 1 ® less grin. "You mean the winner take the fish?" "Sure, why not?" , "Has it occurred to you that someone may have plac e it there temporarily?" I suggested a plausible explanation "If someone did he's taking a long time to claim it- "Meaning?" "It was there yesterday." "Why didn't you take it then?" "For the same reason you didn't today." , The streamside alders stirred and an angler ambl e into view. "Hi," was his light-hearted greeting as his fa c broke into a spontaneous smile. My companion and I exchanged glances. This new
wî^ $m / * #V îth an effort I managed, "Where did you get it?" , "That's just it and you won't believe it," and his smile br °adened. "But believe it or not, I got it out of a waterln 8 trough!" . âter that afternoon when passing through the clear- ' n § en route to my car, I paused at the watering trough r a last regretful look. . * blinked my eyes and peered closer. Were they playln S me tricks? No, there it was as plain as 20-20 vision C ul ° d make it. Poised behind a waving streamer of alga ^ ear the downpour from the rusty pipe was a huge brook r ut ° contentedly fanning its white edged pectorals, j W ell, that's about the way it happened. The most (Seal subsequent deductions probably stacked up as s 0ll °ws: the happy angler unexpectedly appearing on the n Cene did not take the trout from the trough. He did ot e ven know it was there, for unless one's eyes chanced - f all upon it it was difficult to discern among the wavn § moss and algae and stream of air bubbles. What he A RIL-1965 0^f ^
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Page 3 and 4: Th fie " e question was whether tro
Page 5 and 6: w as the piece he'd been looking an
Page 7: "Perhaps you can't realize it," exp
Page 11 and 12: PITHOLE CREEK JERHAPS no trout stre
Page 13 and 14: There are times, of course, when tr
Page 15 and 16: I HE fly fishermen has the wonderfu
Page 17 and 18: IIA TROUT SEASON April 17,1965 ^ L
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Page 21 and 22: Select three peacock sword fibres a
Page 23 and 24: Wi 1 '*• "V "tkrSa^ ar^ tad. V)ki
Page 25 and 26: SUSQUEHANNA YACHT CLUB headquarters
Page 27 and 28: li0ni SERV ATIONIST OF THE YEAR awa
Page 29 and 30: 1964 PENNSYLVANIA ANGLER CITATION R
Page 31 and 32: sjy ^ something about the flash of

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