Doves were behind me in amongst the riverside willows and cottonwoods. Cooing while foraging the river valley floor. I never saw them. I never looked for them. I just listened while watching the water for trout. Their distinctive sound gave them away. Unmistakable. A mourning sound some say. A soothing sound I say.
It was the first real calm after days of howling wind. And with the stillness; with the low ceiling and low light; with the threat of drizzle; and with the sound of Doves, there was the possibility of rising trout. Maybe even a good one.
Springtime in SW Alberta: Sunny and 25c one day; 0c and snow the next. It’s transition time. Caught a few on small dry flies on my local tailwater river. No fish photos this outing. Midges around, a few Olives and fewer Skwala stoneflies. I watched a shallow flat for the occasional surface disturbance. Some promise. Hopefully, we are on the verge of some consistent top water action before run-off occurs and shuts it down for a month or two.
August. Hot as “H”. A Sky full of smoke. Looks like a smog blanket in Beijing. It’s burning west of here. In British Columbia. The residue is drifting eastward. We had almost two months of it last year. To quote Yogi Berra, ” It’s Deja Vu all over again”. Cool, clear Rocky Mountain air… total myth. It’s a heat wave. Fires are burning. And I’m casting flies/fries under a Beijing sky.