The Ignorant Angler

Today was a snow day.  And, I'd made plans to fish.  I got up early and did the requisite shoveling, then left, hoping that there would be less snow over the hill.  Nope.  I was pushing snow with my bumper when I got to the creek.  Ok, so it's a little Toyota with a low bumper.  Getting stuck was a concern.  I decided "what the hell" and went for it.  I'd deal with getting back out to pavement later.
With all of the fresh snow it was a beautiful morning.   It was quite a show when the sun started to peek through the clouds.  I'm always content to snap photos.  And I never tire of scenery.  The same scene on any give day is different.  And, some days it changes constantly, in moments.





So, I started the morning off by nymphing, grudgingly.  I got a couple of fish, and, that was enough.  I proved to myself that I don't care to nymph. That's not what I came out for.
Well, the light just kept getting better.  I went for a stroll and took more photos.   I …

The last pup left tonight.  It was quite a process.  A lot happens in eight weeks.  Watch them be born, grow and then be gone.
A choice had to be made.  It was easy getting it down to two.  Picking between them was tougher.  They're both good looking pups.  Heck, all of them were good looking pups.  But....one's just sweeter....like her mama. The decision was a no brainer.  
She and her sister got to play in the snow with the big dogs today, albeit briefly.  Little dogs get cold quick.  They got scooped up and put back into a nice cushy kennel in the cab of the truck while the big dogs finished their run.














Her name is Katie.  She's a sweetie.  Just like her mama.

It was nine below when I pulled out of the driveway on  Saturday, the second day of January. Moments earlier, my wife had remarked that it was thirty-six above in Fairbanks.  Who'd of thunk it?  Forty-five degrees warmer in the interior of Alaska than in Montana.  This bit of trivia means little other than in passing conversation.  It assumes some greater significance for us in that one of our Brittany pups would soon be boarding a plane, destined for a life of chasing ruffed grouse and ptarmigan in the far north.
So, frigid temperatures notwithstanding, I decided to take a drive.  In the least, I'd make a token appearance creekside.  It was to be a brilliantly clear day and  I didn't want to miss it.  I planned on a day of thinking about fishing rather than wetting a line. When I arrived at the creek it had warmed nicely, to two below. Thank God for barrel stoves!  I wasted no time in crumpling paper and stuffing kindling and bigger wood into the stove.  My fingers were …