Whatever is happening upstream I sure wish it would stop. This is week two of the Greasy Effluent Harvest, and it has me stymied completely. The local area is in full production and the tomatoes, corn, and sunflowers are being scooped up by the truckload. Because of the harvest machinery they have stopped all watering yet the Little Stinking has risen and the volume of debris has tripled.

Plenty of evidence of fish, but they have retreated to the edges of the creek and are staying out of the main body as it’s roiled, impenetrable, and likely they cannot see anything to eat it.

I have always wondered what fish did when the runoff reduced a mountain stream to a chocolate torrent and now I know. Height gives me a vantage point, and I can actually see the carp amidst the grass at the waters edge.

I can’t get a fly in there if I wanted to – nor can I approach without being both seen and heard.

Instead I spectate.

I suppose I could try the zealotry approach and visit whatever county official is responsible for crappy creeks. The idea of objecting to the condition of the creek is appealing, I’m struggling with the wording.

“Sir, it is an affront that you would co-mingle raw sewage with toxic farm chemicals, I must protest.” Better just to claim I saw an endangered species as that would bring both protestors and the eyewitness news team, while one is filming the other, I could get a few casts over productive water.

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