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News – April 01, 2020

Poem by Patrick Hancock

The Spot

It was the spot, I knew where to look.

The spot for a cast in this gentle moving brook.

Just off the bank where the current bends.

The place for a long drift with an occasional mend.

The spot was an eddy with bubbles and foam.

A perfect feeding place for my dry fly to roam.

A glance to the elements, I pondered the hatch.

Then reached for a bug that was hooked to my patch.

Fingers tie a clinch knot, ever so tight.

Terrestrial chosen and ready to take flight.

I knelt for a bit, watching for a rise.

Kept my shadow to myself, Salmo trutta can be so wise.

Finally a sip, subtle rings show him there.

Now it's up to me, natural presentation to make him stare.

I stand and I load, I haul and it goes.

Tight loop above the rings, in a drift for his nose.

I wait for the take, but he passes on the bite.

Something about it to him did not seem right.

I mumbled some words, fisherman’s angst I suppose.

Time to head upstream, in search of who knows.

- A Poem by Patrick Hancock.

March 28, 2020.

Patrick who was one of our guests this last season, shares this lovely poem that he wrote. It was a delight to have him and his wife and son stay with us!