I was allowed to follow the stream that ran through the lower pasture to it's source. No adult supervision, the freedom to explore and make my own discoveries. The source of the stream was a spring fed pond that had a gazebo on top of the dam that formed it. Although it had been forgotten and neglected the pond was a wonderful place full of fat bluegill and golden carp. The journey to and from the pond along the stream was always full of discovery's. The huge flat rock that formed an island in the stream was a wonderful place to sit and rest and watch the water bugs skim across the surface of the pool created by the rock. Drifting leaves and twigs down the rapids showed me the effects of water currents. The meandering stream had undercut banks that in the upper stretches would hold fat creek chubs and in the lower stretches maybe a trout or smallmouth bass. In the spring the sucker's would make their spawning run and amaze me at how such a small stream could become so full of fish. My brother and I would throw rock's and kill a few and take them home for my great- grandmother to eat. Most of the fishing done in this stream was with a sapling cut along the stream's banks and a piece of twine and hook. The fishing was all catch and release although I did not think of it that way then. The bait was night crawlers obtained by overturning rocks along the stream's edge or hellgramites caught clinging under rocks midstream. Water snakes were not feared but watched with interest in how they swam and hid along the stream. I often think of how fortunate I was to have this stream, the flowing water, rapids, and pool's to grow up along.
The stream ended it's journey in a river that I would in my teenage years once again be able to have the freedom to explore and discover, that teens today would not be allowed the unsupervised freedom to enjoy. This river were I learned to swim ( yes, kid's learned to swim in creeks and rivers in those days ). The river held larger fish and bigger rapids that continued my learning and discovering days of youth. The river had sloughs that might become landlocked lakes in the heat and drought of summer. The fish trapped in these sloughs were often very hungry and would bite anything I would toss to them, with the now advanced rod and reel that I fished with. Many were the days spent wading and learning to cast along this river. Daring the rapids to rescue a boat hung up in them and shooting the rapids in truck inner tubes.
Life's journey built along the joys of fishing the stream and river have a lot of similarities. From birth-the spring fed pond, through the rapids-lifes often to fast a pace, to the pools-lifes peaceful and settled times, the forks and bends-as my life has it's many twists and turns, the confluence-were my life joins with another to become bigger and better, the eddies-were life seems to back up for a bit before continuing on, the long straight flowing stretches-were life is just good and steady, to its end in the sea-the still undiscovered and unknown.
