Smallmouth bass are fast becoming my favorite quarry, readily available, alternately finicky and voracious, and never disappoint in the ensuing brawl. They’re the nearly perfect predator, adapting their coloration to the surroundings at will, and fish a hundred yards apart can be colored almost like two different species. Common to all is the “Cylon” red eye, glaring back as if to say, “If you were only a little smaller Mister Homo Sapien, I would bust a cap in your ..”

I don’t piss them off as I’ve only got a 150 lbs on them – and somewhere one of these finned missiles has ingested laboratory waste and is lying doggo – waiting for the out of shape angler and intent on mayhem.

I’ve been lucky the last couple of weeks exploiting a short lived weakness, managing to land a number of them measured in pounds rather than inches. They fight hard – jump often, and are alternately somber and brilliant in color.

The creek is still running at 50% of normal, last week I walked three miles of bank and spotted these fish in the reduced flow, normally the water would be too deep – it affords me an opportunity to see where Old Red Eye sleeps at night.

They’re still as skittish as trout and a bad approach will have them out of their haunts and gone. I slide in on the far side of the river and run a half dozen casts through – then move on. I get two tries at each lie – one on the way up, and again on the way back.

Yesterday I had a “tomato opportunity” at one of the more skittish fish, effluent from the field above was pumping muck into the creek and discolored his holding area, giving me a better approach.

A Brown Birdsnest was his undoing – slipped dead drift through tomato waste. This fish is only a hundred yards away from last week’s fish (photo) – yet this one is pale and matches the surrounding clay impeccably.

With all the dry fly activity I watched them feed aggressively on the small mayfly spinners, they’re opportunists and will eat whatever’s delivered close. All I had with me that I could see was a #16 Pale Olive parachute, I flung it and was ignored.  That big arsed Pikeminnow saw it as a candy bar however – and afforded me the first 20 inch fish I’ve caught on the Little Stinking. Pikeminnow are long and nearly cylindrical, and this fish was just shy of 24″ and nearly 4 lbs.

I tucked both safely back into the water for the next fellow. My kind of fish, they eat whatever’s served and I fish whatever’s close, a match made in Heaven.

Next time you lift that fork full of Ragu to your lips, you remember who trod on those tomatoes first – and where that boots’ been..

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