I actually took this picture while fighting a smallmouth bass. I had already caught 5 along the rip rap of Pend d'Oreille Bay and had this one on when the sun did what you see here. I couldn't resist. Holding the rod between my knees, I let the bass do whatever while I took my digital out of my shirt pocket and put it on this scene, wide angle, vertical.

That's exactly what I was looking at on a perfect end-of-June morning this 2007, two hours before work just outside the city limits of Downtown Sandpoint.

It was a perfect bass morning for fishing tube worms which you do by casting near structure. You let the tube worm settle. (It's a weighted jig with a soft body that looks and acts like a crayfish when handled correctly.)

You wait a moment, then move it slightly on the bottom. That's usually where you'll get the strike. But some follow or see your lure as you begin to bring it up over the heavy lay of rocks that were put there by the Army Corp of Engineers to prevent further erosion to this long shoreline. The engineers didn't know the smallmouth bass would move into these waters and so unwittingly, they created prime bass water for certain times of the year, particularly May and June.

What a way to start the day!

###Dwayne K. Parsons

Bass Explosion on Pend Oreille

Prior to the last three or four years, Lake Pend Oreille saw little in the way of smallmouth bass fishing. We've had largemouth in the system for years. We fished for them primarily in the spring throwing skirted jigs and spinners into murky sloughs. We'd catch a few. Now and then one of us would get into the right place at the right time and woowee--twenty or thirty fish later, we'd have a story to tell.

But you never heard of smallmouth in this fishery back then--until around the turn of the century. North Idaho experienced an unreasonable snow melt assisted by heavy rains in the spring of '97 (~March 20) and the Army Corp had already begun to bring the lake up to level when the torrents came down off the mountains. The dams couldn't quite handle the load. Though they held, we had flood conditions. In the process, smallmouth bass were washed down into the Pend Oreille.

By 2000, 2001 and 2, a few fishermen began catching them. Others who knew what they were doing came from elsewhere and rumor spread quickly that Lake Pend Oreille was about to explode with a new fishery. They were right. Smallmouth, prone to structure, have taken over the riprap shorelines and rocky areas of this massive lake body. With an ample supply of perch, crappie, peno, pike minnow and other minnow species, small mouth lacked nothing in the way of food. Now we're catching fish quite frequently in the 6-pound class, with a few larger and stories are circulating of smallmouth bass getting off that could weigh in the 7 to 9-pound range.

Anyone who wants to test the explosion theory has only to throw a tube worm and fish it properly around a piling or rock structure, especially in late May and on through June into July. Even fly fishermen are trading their trout dreams for small mouth. Think about it. I've caught several good fish already off the shores of Downtown Sandpoint! It takes very little time to be on the lake, boat or no boat, and catch good fish after work or in the early morning before the clock starts. On the right days, you can do this even during lunch hours.

Growing up here I never imagined Lake Pend Oreille, noted for its historic Kamloops, Kokanee and Bull Trout fisheries, would ever become famous as a spiney ray lake.

But it is.

###Dwayne K. Parsons

Men at Work

I'm netting yet another fine Lake Trout for Ward Tollbum in this photograph. Ward is a fine arts painter and picture frame craftsman with a shop in downtown Sandpoint. He's also a knowldgeable naturalist who grew up on the shores of this lake and knows North Idaho like his backyard. Further and without flattery, Ward is a true American sportsman with a heart to share his knowledge with others. He also has a keen sense for what works, why it works, where and when.

I was on the water this particular morning with Ward and his daughter, Delci, for my first experience jigging for Mackinaw. I now have great faith in the technique.

We're dropping weighted lures, of which quite a variety exists, into deep water to imitate wounded bait fish. We're fishing between 90- and 120-foot depths where we've graphed a number of lake trout on the fishfinder. The jig is fairly heavy, weighing between 2 and 5 ounces. It hits the bottom, your line goes slack. You tighten and then jerk the rod tip well up into the air; the higher the better because the monofilament stretches at that depth. The lure jumps up off the bottom and settles down again with a dying flutter when you bring your rod tip down.

Mackinaw will hit your imitation at any point, probably thinking it's an easy take. If they don't actually take the lure, you may snag them as they come in to swing at it or investigate.

Only a week prior to my visit, Ward took national bestselling author Foster Cline (Love and Logic) out for his first Mackinaw trip and they caught 13 in one morning using this technique. I don't yet have a picture of that day but I hope to obtain one and I'll share it when I do.

Idaho Fish & Game currently has a bounty on Mackinaw having determined this deep water predator is a little too effective on taking Kokanee, which once swam by the millions in Lake Pend Oreille. So there's no limit to numbers you can take and the bounty is $15/head. Thirteen times fifteen equals...hmmm. Effective encouragement. Certainly pays for the gas to get there. But it helps also to have a little knowledge from an ardent fisherman like Ward who's spent countless hours, days and weeks learning what he knows about the fish of Lake Pend Oreille.

And here's one for you, that fish I'm netting for Ward was the last of the day. He hooked it unwittingly by snagging the loop in a Fish & Game tag that had been placed behind the dorsal fin. With all that leverage the fish fought hard but in the end lost to Ward's deft handling. You can see the tag attached just behind the dorsal fin in this photograph.

Some guys are just lucky, I guess.

But then, where the tag was once worth a hundred bucks, we learned later it had expired by the time Ward caught this laker. Some guys aren't quite as lucky as we think they are.

###Dwayne K. Parsons

Relationships

For me, fishing is all about relationships and there are two kinds that build from the experience. One is your relationship with others. A kind of bonding takes place on stream and lake that shares no other common ground. Any two or more people can build a relationship around fishing that they might not formulate elsewhere in quite the same way.

Enjoying the prize catch is in part hearing from another you respect say something like, "Wow, nice fish!" and mean it.

The other kind of relationship has to do with the environment in which you fish. It's not just understanding fish species and the techniques best used to catch them, not just about understanding how that species interacts with it's realm either. It's your total mindless (no thought) experience with the beauty of the whole place, the setting, the weather, the time of day, the water--everything.

Relationships. The photo I provide here was rendered from the original in Photoshop using some of the enhancement tools. I've given it the title Elderberry Skies. It's one of my favorite fishing images.

The father is Sandpoint artist, Dan DeAlba and that's his son, DJ. I asked this young boy how he spells his name. "It's simple," he said matter of factly, like the young scholar he is, "D...J," and then walked on.

###Dwayne K. Parsons

Far From Dead

Many of the folks who've fished Lake Pend Oreille in the last year or so complain that the fishery that once was here is no longer, that the notoriously big Gerrard rainbows are gone. They are certainly less common, but fishing with Ward Tollbom and his daughter Delci, we had at least three pass directly beneath our fish finder between 30 feet and 60 feet down. That's rainbow depth. The reasons for the changes in fishable species in this lake are many, but the fact is the primary food fish, Kokanee, has too many effective predators seeking its nutrious flesh.

But I would like to say that I think this lake is far from dead. It's just changing, like the demographics of California and Vancouver, British Columbia. Change in populations is inevitable in some ways. If you are as old as I am (gray-haired will do) and grew up in North Idaho, you would never have believed that wild turkeys would roam these woods and fields in such great abundance as they do now--and in all my high school days of hunting for whitetail deer in the fall I never once saw a moose track, and elk were scarce where they are now abundant. North Idaho has changed.

The state record Kamloops was caught in 1947, just a couple of months before I was born. I didn't get here in time to enjoy the kind of fishery this lake provided then. Kokanee (land-locked sockeye salmon) that generally ran an average of 11 and 12 inches swam Lake Pend Oreille in the millions and those huge longer-living Gerrard rainbows locally called Kamloops fed on them.

We still have Kokanee in this lake system but they are in danger of collapsing. They've been recognized as in the danger zone for more than fifteen years. A similar abundant fishery of kokanee disappeared from Priest Lake where I caught them by the bucket full when I was a boy. The lakes change, sometimes not for the better.

But let's look at Lake Pend Oreille. No one can deny its changing, but it is certainly not dead. Mackinaw (deep dwelling, voracious Lake Trout) , like the one shown here, are still swimming in relative abundance. We saw many blimps on the bottom flat where we jigged water 110 to 130 feet deep. Those were mackinaw. Despite efforts to gill net them out of abundance, they are still there and will be. The lake is too big to catch them all, providing too many places where they can reside.

Of the five lake trout taken in Ward's boat that early June morning, two had 8 and 9 kokanee respectively in their stomachs, as seen in this photo. The point I'm making is that the lake is not dead; it is just changing. To catch large fish frequently, you've got to change with it.

### Dwayne K. Parsons

A Log That Moved

By Mike Robertson, Canadian Field Editor

Todd and I had decided to fish the McKinnon Flats, a wildlife refuge on the Bow River, southeast of Calgary just past where the Sheep River meets the Bow River. It was quite chilly that Saturday, the last day in March. A cold spring wind blew in off the distant Rockies from the northwest. Clouds covered us most of the morning, but we had a welcome break of blue with direct sun for about 25 minutes.

By then we'd each taken a trout or two when suddenly Todd hooked up on what he thought was a bottom snag. He pumped the rod and tried to break free. But it began to pump back. He had on a large fish of some sort--that was evident--but it was strange as it didn't fight at all like a Bow River Brown or Rainbow.

Fact was, it hardly fought at all. Total time to net couldn't have been more than two minutes. I figured it might have been because of the cold water conditions. Had he hooked this big baby in June or July, we'd have seen a more voracious tussle, I'm sure. But hey! It makes for a nice picture!

Todd was fishing a Brown Trout Rapala Countdown casting long and fishing deep. Landing this massive Pike was a rare experience for both of us. So far it's the largest Pike the landing of which I've been part of on the Bow River. You can catch bigger Pike north of Calgary and some south near the border, but one this size is a rare catch on the Bow. We know they're here, but it's not often you see one this size.

Todd caught one more trout after that, until three other fishermen invaded our spot. I had taken 3 smaller Rainbows fishing pretty much the same way and landed one monster Brown, but when these other fishermen came in, we left.

I have to put in a note here on river etiquette. When a river is long and full of fish and has few fishermen on it, there's no excuse to come in on top of other fishermen. I find it hard to understand why they couldn't fish somewhere else. I try to show courtesy to other fishermen whenever possible. Good river etiquette is important. The Bow gets crowded sometimes especially in August and September when so many people are on vacation. When it's like that sometimes you just can't help floating over someone else's spot; but to come right in on other fishermen when there's plenty of open water is a discourtesy. I found myself irritated with these guys because they simply had no regard for us. Had they shown some courtesy my attitude toward them might have been different.

At any rate, I left happy with the fishing, which on the Bow is almost always great.

###Mike Robertson

River Dreams

It's that time of year. I can't drive by a body of water without thinking about the fish in it. This photo was taken just two days ago on the Lower Clark Fork River at the mouth of Lightning Creek, a primary spawning tributary for Lake Pend Oreille's Gerrard Rainbow strain of trout.

This year, holding firm on a controversial decision, Idaho Fish & Game (see Panhandle Region Map and Exceptions) has opened up this and other tributaries to this large body of water April 1st with no limit on rainbows in hopes that catching many of the lake's spawners will diminish the large trout population sufficiently to allow a once prolific fishery for freshwater sockeye salmon (Kokanee) to return.

Stay tuned. We'll be monitoring this process. Hope it works. Meanwhile, a lot of big rainbows are in a vulnerable position as they move up and down the narrow streams. Fact is, you might catch one like this river-run rainbow hen taken by Thomas Mackey, photo courtesy of Kyle Cady, both of Bonners Ferry, Idaho.

The trout are in the stream now and the waters are not yet too high. But as the snow melts in the Cabinet, Bitterroot and Selkirk mountains, run-off will create muddied conditions and the trout will be more difficult to find.

You'll want to be cautious as well on these freestone streams. Round rocks are slippery when wet and the currents are strong enough to take you under.

### Dwayne K. Parsons

Willow Bark and Rainbows

March can be a great month for river-run rainbows. I've learned to look for the color of rust on the willow branches for a cue to good fishing. That's when you go to the river because that's when rainbow trout head upstream ahead of the murky water.

From left to right, Thomas Mackey, Justin Figgins and Kyle Cady, all Bonners Ferry men, found their way to the Clark Fork River on just the right day. These are all hen rainbows. The limit is two each so Kyle still had one to go; and they weren't done yet when I happened upon them for this photo op.

These are Gerrard Rainbows from Pend Oreille Lake caught in the act of heading up to spawn. Just like sea-run steelhead on the Clearwater River, these fine fish fell prey to roe (fish eggs) fished along the bottom on a drift.

I guessed the food value of their catch at around $120 by weight in a food mart. You'll find no better food fish than these this time of year. Catch and release is a good practice in heavily fished waters, but the predator population on Pend Oreille is under tight management. So this year, Idaho Fish & Game placed a moratorium on lake-run rainbows to encourage harvest of adult fish. Both rainbows and lake trout are known to feed heavily on the dwindling population of Kokanee still resident in the lake.

The spring run of rainbows has nothing to do with the color of willow bark except both are natural responses to warmer weather and increased length of day. The water is up in rivers because of snow-melt and spring rains. The sap is up in the willows for the same reason. Higher, silted-water acts as a stimulate for egg-laden rainbow hens and their compliment of males to move out of the lake into the spawning streams. It makes sense. The water is deeper. Larger fish can go higher up to the better spawning gravels and return before the spring run-off drops to prohibitive levels. This water flux is good for the young fry as well because it means they'll have fewer predatory fish to contend with while they grow.

As for the willows seen in this background shot of the lower Clark Fork River, that purplish rust-brown color you see on the willow branches at water's edge is a cue to my inner being. I spent many days in my youth fishing March water and that's the only time of year you'll see that color without leaves. Like trout drawn to highwater, I'm coaxed by the color of willow bark just before the leaves pop out. Later the water will get higher and muddier before subsiding for summer, so this is the time to go.

I watched from shore as they caught the largest of this day's catch. What a pleasure! That's them in the boat. Look carefully about fifteen feet in front of their bow. You can see the head of Thomas' 25-inch fish as she came out of the water on tight line.

Hmmmnn...willow bark and rainbows.

###Dwayne K. Parsons

A Brown in Pend Oreille?

When people talk about the fish and fishing in Lake Pend Oreille, they usually talk about the outsized Rainbow Trout, the Gerrard Rainbows imported into these waters from a longer-living Canadian strain. They also, now, talk about the voracious Mackinaw, or Lake Trout, that got into these waters some fifty years ago and have grown sight unseen in deeper waters until within the last ten years or so they started showing up on the ends of fishing rods.

Both trout species are notorious predators and according to Idaho Fish & Game. Fish biologists that have conducted many lengthy studies hoping to restore the once-famous Kokanee fishing on these waters. Kokanee (locally once called Bluebacks) are a variety of landlocked sockeye salmon. Kokanee were not always here either. The first in this lake were caught handlining for Lake Whitefish, dropping a heavy sinker into deep water with a maggot or two barbed to a small hook six inches off the bottom and jigging by hand without rod. Those early birds didn't know what they were catching but knew they sure tasted good! They called them Bluebacks in lieu of their spring and summer colors. When these prolific fish started showing up in great numbers (by the mid-to-late 40s, there were millions of these fish in the lake averaging 11-inches in length), they were fished commercially and had become the main food source of humongous trout.

Of late, the large rainbows and the Mackinaw, the latter in particular have been labelled as the culprits in the food chain that could drop the Kokanee of Lake Pend Oreille off the map in a population collapse. Long story here with many tangents...I could go on and on and on.

But nobody talks about or even broaches the subject of Brown Trout in Lake Pend Oreille and yet the Clark Fork River, which flows into the lake, is full of them above the Cabinet Gorge Dam. Seems a few have gone through the spillway. This 30-inch brown trout, coveted by you and me but taken by George Hendrix was caught in the second week of March off an unnamed point casting small brassy spoons from shore. It's a bonafide Salmo Trutta alright. Thirty inches in length and weighing a winter-lite eight and a half pounds. Whew! Where'd she come from?

"Nice goin', George. Say...next time you head out...if you have room...would you mind...you know...taking me along?"

###Dwayne K. Parsons

Just Under the Ice

When the shallow bays look like farm fields, what do you do but bore a hole in the ice and while away the time catching perch? That's what most of us do, but a few innovative fishermen go after the larger, and yes, tastier, lake whitefish seen in this photograph of young Hunter Hendrix showing off his Dad's fresh winter catch.

Long-time North Idaho fisherman, George Hendrix, caught these in early February fishing a large flat of ice over the shallows off Sunnyside on the east end of Pend d'Oreille Bay, Lake Pend Oreille.

The bay, full of perch that time of year, retains the original French spelling, though history has dropped the small-case d' in favor of simpler spelling from North Idaho's now famous and certainly largest natural body of water, Lake Pend Oreille. Despite the fact that Lake Pend Oreille has a dam down river at Albani Falls, just east of the Washington State line, it still qualifies as a natural lake because the dam serves to regulate the potential of flooding while generating a significant amount of energy for the Pacific Northwest.

These whitefish are Lake Superiors, planted in Lake Pend Oreille in the early 1900s as a food fish. For the most part, they inhabit deep water and are seldom sought by area fishermen. They are larger than the more common Mountain Whitefish which also inhabit this lake system. Though these fish are roughly a pound to a pound and a half, many will gain weight to five or six pounds and for the most part inhabit depths of 90-feet or greater. In the winter and spring, however, as George has learned, they come into the shallower waters to feed on the large mayfly nymph known to trout fishermen in this bay. These whitefish were "stuffed, literally stuffed" according to George who saved a few samples for the record. The nymph lying next to this pencil was one taken from the stomach of one of these whitefish.

George told me he caught the whitefish "jigging hard and fast just three inches below the ice cover." Thanks, George, for showing us this incredible food fish can be caught when the winter months are dragging on.

### Dwayne K. Parsons

What Can We Do But Wait?

Really what are the options? The lakes are frozen. The rivers are hard to fish and dangerous as well because of shore ice. We who love to fish have very little to do but tie flies, put fresh line in our reels and dream about the coming days. Unless we want to auger the ice.

Click here to download a trailer of a wild DVD presentation that will wet your whistle

Some guys have just found the way to get away. Then there are men like Mike Robertson who fish even when it's cold. Of course, if I had a candy store like Alberta's Bow River, I guess I too would find a way to the water despite freezing temperatures.

Here's another site you're sure to enjoy. When it comes to great fishing adventures, language poses no barrier. Whether they speak French, Russian, Mongalese or Moroccan, the language of fishing is the same the world over.

If you have a hot fishing site you'd like to share, please let us know. Just sign into the comments section by clicking below and leave us the url address.

May your first fish be the best of the season.

Dwayne K. Parsons

Our Haven

Some places on earth are serenely kept for the few lucky enough to happen upon.

We walk about our paths hoping for such scenes as this.

Hoping, yes, praying sometimes for the peaceful repose, the place of respite ease.

When we spy its recognition, instant peace courses through our being.

It's our haven, only one letter short of God's.

~Dwayne K. Parsons

A Mid-Summer Night's Dream

On The Dark Side of Brown Trout Fishing
By Mike Robertson , Canadian Field Editor

I love to fish for massive browns. It’s the primary variety of trout I like to target. Why? Because they are the hardest to catch and they are, in my experience, the smartest of all trout. By day, they are extremely wary. Their eyesight is unsurpassed, among trout. I tell you, there’s no greater satisfaction than landing a really big one.

When the sun goes down and most people go to bed, that’s when I want to be on the water. It’s the perfect time to go after a truly massive brown trout. It’s when the river takes on a different kind of life. The rush of water is louder (because you have to listen to it to tell where you are). Of the many night sounds, the one you tune into is that of the rise and sometimes splash of an actively feeding trout. You can tell when they’re chasing minnows. It’s a clumsy way of fishing, at best, but there’s no greater excitement than the anticipation of what you might catch.

Browns are nocturnal by nature. Larger browns feed when the sun goes down and continue feeding all night long. Once your nerves settle and the edginess subsides, you concentrate on the task at hand—casting to large brown trout by moonlight and sometimes in pitch black. But in the last case, you’d better know your water.

Studies over the last 15 years have shown what some fishermen have long known. Trophy class browns feed at night. Biologists radio-tracking 20-inch plus browns found they spent most of their daylight time in cover. Types of cover were log jams, under-cut banks and river rocks large enough to hide them. But after sunset, these same trout became active predators on the prowl.

Research has shown that hungry browns after dark will sometimes cruise for miles, picking up crawfish, nymphs, minnows, small suckers and the fry of game fish, including their own. They’ll even take mice off the surface because basically they’ll eat anything they can wrap their lips around.

So as summer approaches faintly on the late winter horizon, I anticipate a mid-summer night’s dream: catching a large brown at night.

###

A Brown of the Bow

The following story is not mine. It was written by and belongs to Mike Robertson of Calgary, Alberta. It's a brief tale about catching brown trout on the Bow River, and he gives us proof in this photo, taken by one of his friends. I've re-posted it here with his permission. To visit his site, click here.

A Brown of the Bow

By Mike Roberston, Calgary, Alberta

The alarm goes off and I jump out of bed. It’s time to go fishing again, my friends. I can’t wait. I turn off the alarm and hear that glorious morning sound of birds chirping. I wipe the cob webs from my eyes. My heart begins to race in anticipation of the day ahead.

As I step out of my truck on the banks of the Bow River, I flush a gold-breasted pheasant. It flies desperately for cover and I smile. “Nothing for you to worry about,” I tell the bird. “I’m here for the fish.”

I lean over my tackle box to tie on my first choice, a shiny gold Minnow Spinner. It’s so bright in the sun that it causes me to squint. I look up into the sky. It’s close to noon now. I’m eager to get on with the fishing.

The water is clear blue, almost ice blue, yet I am alone. There is no one around but me and some large brown trout swimming over the rocks. I cast my selection slightly upstream and allow it to sink as it swings down with the current. Anticipation of that first fish is almost unbearable at this point.

I look up to the crystal sky, blue against the backdrop of Canadian Rockies. I am happy that I’m a fisherman and have this great escape in my life free from the fast-paced hustle of city life.

Carefully, I work my offering to tantalize the big brown I imagine lying in wait underneath the surface.

As the lure tumbles over the bottom of the Bow, I cannot help but think this is where I am meant to be. Slowly I retrieve the spinner all the way back to shore and there is no trout on the end of the line.

I shrug and cast again. The spinner drops into the water, swings, takes up motion and WHAM, I’m fast into a monster brown. The line screams out of my reel and I might have lost him, but my Berkley XT monofilament is stronger than him. He bulldogs his way to the middle of the river, but I hold him.

Just as I think he’s going to come in, he turns to ride the current downstream. My rod bends sharply to his effort, but I won’t give in. Slowly I gain the upper hand. The fight is honest and pure and equal for a time, then he comes to the bank and is mine.

This guy was one tough customer. I kneel down beside him in the flowing water to administer some first aid to my new friend. I ask for the forceps but there’s no nurse around. He’s not a very good patient and won’t lie still; but I gently work the hook from his mouth.

That brown wasn’t the one in the photograph. I released him into the river without a picture. But he was just like the one you see in the photograph. Yes, I was meant to be there. Oh, the fun of it! There’s nothing in all the world like trout fishing on the Bow.

# # #

Waiting

Winter is a long wait by the time we get near the end of January. Obviously I'm no ski bum. I find various ways to while away the time waiting for scenes like this.

The photo is Caribou Creek, which flows into the upper end of Priest Lake in North Idaho. Good things happen on a freestone like this.

The water's a little high for wading in this photo. But the trout are there. High water is a time for spinners, crank bait and streamers. I've caught good trout, strong trout in currents like that. It's hard to get around but where you can you're likely going to tie into a memory or two.

Otherwise, you just tie flies, take the dog out for a walk, fiddle with your gear--things like that. It's a waiting time, this winter stuff. Some guys go ice fishing, I probably will too, but looking through old photos is another way of getting there outside of time.

A Fluke

Fishing fever generally sets in during the winter. I think this is true for every honest fisherman and the women too who fish. I think it's true for the dishonest too, who fish. When we've had just about enough snow to start our own ski resort, that's when it happens. It just comes on you. Symptoms are a far away look, drifting thoughts, twitching in the fingers, and even rod rage.

About the only way one can handle this disease is to get out into the outdoors and approach some sort of water with life in it. I did that just this day. But because I didn't have a license yet and because I'm on the honest side of the pendulum, I took my dog instead of a fishing rod.

I drove out to Cocollala Lake south of Sandpoint (North Idaho) to see what I could see. I'd spotted people fishing the ice there on many occasions and new I'd likely find someone wrestling with the same fever; so that's where I went.

Don't worry, I was armed with a long-haired Chihuaha named Bijou. He's a bird, lap, huntin', walkin' dog and you wouldn't want to approach my pickup if I left him in there for some reason.

We dropped down over the embankment, slid down an icy snow path to the lake shore and walked out to three unsuspecting but quite accommodating sportsman who suffered much the same as me.

They were catching perch as Bijou and I neared them and one of the men had a couple of pan-sized trout in his bucket. But they were releasing the perch. That seemed unusual so as they warmed up to me, I asked why. The first one I saw up close had black spots on its belly so I asked about that and the man told me it was Black Spot, marks left by a parasite that enters a fish through its skin and later becomes a flatworm.

I stayed for quite a while. The fact is I made friends with these three men. I took some photographs and they gave me a couple of the perch to take home. Not that I wanted to eat the flesh of wormed fish, but because I wanted to dissect them and see for myself what kind of damage the worms did.

I photographed the flesh and looked through the semi-transparent meat for worms but found none. You can see a black spot in the background on the inside of the filleted skin. But there were no worms or parasitic eggs or larva that I could detect visible in or on any of the meat or skin. The flesh looked okay to me, though I wasn't yet confident about eating it.

I learned several things worth noting. First, according to every source I looked into, if the fish were cooked properly, the larva or worms in any stage would die in the heat. So it appeared safe to eat them. The flat worm in adult stage is called a fluke. In this case, Black Spot Fluke is a liver flatworm. Once I learned that, I opened up the second fish and checked it's liver. Sure enough, the liver did not look healthy and I believe that yellow portion lying on the knife blade is the culprit that did the damage. This fish's liver was seriously damaged, not firm at all.

Secondly, I learned there were varieties of the same called Yellow Spot and White Spot usually seen on the liver of an opened fish. The black spots on this perch are the repair marks where the perch's immune system patched up the microsoopic entry point of entering larvae. Flatworms, like tapeworms, I found have an amazingly complex life cycle.

Who knows what's out there? I fished for half my life not realizing any of this. But I'm clear now, I won't make sushi from freshwater fish, especially if I find marks on the skin such as those you see on the perch above.

That's my first entry. Come back for recipes, tales and some true adventure. I'll even teach a few fly-tying lessons as time goes by. Aaah! I feel better already! I guess I broke the ice on this thing called fishing fever.