I have one of those memories, as do most. As I recall, I’m standing on a familiar stretch of river. It’s mid-spring and the red hues of budding trees are starting to give way to the leaves bursting from within. Wildflowers of every shape and size are springing forth from the forest floor and the smell of spring rains is on the breeze.
I have been on this stretch of Steelhead Alley before, but this day is different. As I stand by the side of the river, the song of a cardinal rings through the woods. If I listen carefully, I can hear the thrashing of distant fish vying for positions on the redds. The seasons are changing, the water looks great, and there are fish throughout…it’s almost utopia, and fortunately for me, I am on the water.
On that special day, I had been fishing the usual nymphing techniques that I had cut my teeth on in years past. The day had already been successful and for that I was grateful. However, there was a hunger deep within that needed to be satiated. It was the hunger for a fish on the swing.
As I approached the stretch of spawning gravel where I had heard the activity of fish earlier, I noticed the hens and their eligible suitors lining up for the opportunity to fertilize their prize. I am always fascinated by spawning steelhead. I love watching a hen building a redd or a buck staking his claim. As I watched this day though, my mind slipped away to the game of swinging streamers for aggressive fish. I quickly decided where the most aggressive fish may be and how I could target them while leaving the spawners to their business.
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