I thought of it as answering one of many questions I’ve always had about watersheds and how soon they recovered from obvious trauma.

Travelwriter had spied some rising fish in a stretch of the river that was normally bone dry this time of year. Adding 170% more water to the stream means the farming community can’t suck it all down, and would as soon avoid doing so given the mattress springs, dead bodies, late model stolen-everything – all of which is tumbling in the current, surely to foul pumps and pipes alike.

BEFORE

That additional volume makes banks vanish, holes get created, and sandbars move miles overnight. Understanding who survived all that carnage would fill a big hole in my understanding of floods, fish, and who wins what …

AFTER

Note the shrubs, trees, and grasses are completely vanished off the right side of the creek, leaving only a single innocent looking tree that isn’t quite as innocent as it would seem … as I found out later …

The water was about 40-50 feet deep here a couple weeks ago, now it’s only a foot to 18 inches in most spots.

I went down the next evening to investigate, as I skeptical of “mystery rings” and whether anything could have survived given the above circumstances …

The stretch had become repopulated with about a dozen 4-6 inch Pikeminnow. Last season, the second since water was restored, the Pikeminnow fry had grown to three inches in length. The length of these suggests they’re second year fish.

Making these survivors of two massive earth moving floods (last year was wet too) I’d guess these fish survive by staying near the bank – despite the bank being a hundred yards from its historical norm.

I managed to land three or four fish – all similarly apportioned and nary a mark for their ordeal. 

Unfortunately they’ve survived only to die due to evaporation – which will start shortly. I may bring down a bucket and relocate what I can catch –  the creek is still starved of citizens and I don’t mind getting dirty. I’ll call it “Pee You” for Pikeminnow Unlimited – as I’m the only SOB willing to stick my neck out for a cockroach …

As I was there for a scienctific purposes, I hunkered down largely oblivious to my surroundings. I’m tossing cottonseed dander imitations and small nymphs into a small, deep hole in the wide part of the bend.

After pulling three or four fish out of  it’s depths I’m satisfied they’re all Pikeminnow, so I ease down the bank into the shallows below just to see if there’s any other activity .

The wind shifts abruptly and I get a faceful of meat decay. It’s close and I’m thinking big animal, yet dreading turning around and finding someone’s kid wedged in the crotch of a tree, victim of some upstream flooding accident.

I’m backpedaling while attempting to hold down the evening meal – all the while scanning the riverbank, underbrush, and everything else nearby, and nothing.

I ease around the tree and find Big Bird, the wiliest of all Mother Nature’s game birds, slammed into a fork of the tree at speed, and becoming more fragrant by the moment.

Naturally a moment of introspection was needed, especially as the little Angel on my shoulder was in heated debate with the little devil on the other …

The little angel claimed, “Dude, forget the bragging points, your girl is arriving tomorrow and the use of refrigerator or any other storage on your premises is completely out of the question!”

The little Devil snorted in contempt, “Dude, call yourself a Man? Don’t think of the rotting and swollen beached seal you cut too deeply, this time you’ll be able to get the stink out of your clothes easy, by tomorrow even!”

… just the thought of the rotting seal episode was enough, even if I was doing it for Science …