In the early part of the trout season, before the brush grows up, it’s possible to get to places that in a month will be protected by a dense jungle of thorny, wader-shredding, tick-harboring vegetation.
So the other day I made my way into the Blackberry River, starting just over the town line in Norfolk and working downstream.
The stream runs along a cornfield on one side, with woods and then cleared fields on the other. To fish it, bring a) a short rod b) a box of soft-hackle wet flies and c) a willingness to stoop, bend, crawl, scootch and adopt otherwise undignified positions.
So here’s a run ending in a logjam. Standing on the left side looking downstream toward the hole, I swung a green soft-hackle wet in there, with a Stimulator as an indicator fly.
I had something take a swipe at the wet fly. Then I waited for what seemed like hours but was probably five minutes. Then I tried again, and to my surprise, hauled this brook trout out. Almost certainly a recently stocked fish, but why the state boys would put a brook trout in here I don’t know.
Here’s another look at the hole