Big Laurel Trout Fishing: An Unexpected Delight

“All that moved was her pivoting ear
the reddening sun shining through
Transformed to a color I’d only seen
In a photo of a child in a womb.”
------C.K. Williams, “The Doe”

A few years later, on a brisk, Spring morning I ventured to one of my favorite spots on the Big Laurel. It was not an obvious holding area for trout, but it was always stacked with fish. Most of the time, trout like a bend in the river. The varying depths and current speeds allow them to adjust their temperature and feed with minimal effort. The deeper water is cool, offering comfort and protection from the mid-day heat, like sitting in an air-conditioned room. There is a current ‘seam’ between slower moving (moderate flow) water and the faster current on the outside of the turn. Trout can rest on the edge of the moderate flow and pick from the smorgasbord floating by.

But this fishing hole was different. It’s a long, straight stretch of water that would not catch the attention of most passing fishermen. The road runs parallel to the river but one can only see the side farthest from the road. On the near side, the water is deeper, with rock formations that make seemly cover for brook trout. I usually approach this area from the far, upstream side of the river casting a dropper rig perpendicular to the road and letting it swing through the strike zone. It’s very effective

On this particular morning, the dawn mist was hanging on the water and fields with distinct shafts of sunlight cutting through here and there. The effect was surreal. All I could hear was the gentle gurgling of the river and a calm serenity settled over me as I situated for the first cast. I closed my eyes to take it in. After a couple of deep breaths, I was jolted and splashed by what sounded like a tree crashing into the river about ten feet behind me. Spinning around, to my amazement, I was nose to nose with a big, whitetail doe! Our eyes were locked only inches apart and we both stood perfectly still like this for several seconds. Then I said, “Well aren’t you a pretty girl?” The lovely deer cocked her head to the side, reminiscent of our family dog when we would speak to her as if she was human. I continued speaking to the doe and she kept tilting her head as if she was trying to understand. Eventually, I said that I had come to do some fishing and turned my back to her. She never ran. She would take a few steps, then watch, as if trying to stay out of my way. She continued this pattern of a few steps, stopping, observing curiously for three or four minutes. Curiosity sated, she climbed slowly up the bank and crossed the road. I am grateful and blessed to carry the memory of this resplendent creature.