Mar 11, 2022 4 min read

Red wings, vultures and coltsfoot, too.

These, you say, are the true harbingers of spring. But some of us march to the beat of a different drummer. For me, it is that first trout taken from little Chartiers Creek.

Spring is almost here, and the trout season represents spring at its finest. After the opening of trout season in April, spring is officially upon us.

The crowds along the banks make you think that Mother Nature is giving something away and maybe she is. In the “Two Hearted River,” a novel by Ernest Hemingway, we find the main character hanging over the bridge, looking into the clean, cold water. That’s what trout season is about. Perhaps those white Fish Commission trucks are the true harbingers of spring.

My daughter asked me if I remember the first Trout I ever caught. To be honest, while I do remember my first sucker and first chub, I forget the when and where about the first fish.

I do remember the first trout I caught on a lure. I had dropped off my future brother-in-law at a bridge on Sugar Creek in Venango County. I was with my other brother-in-law, Fred, and we planned to meet somewhere in the middle, us fishing downstream him fishing upstream. While brother-in-law Fred was sipping his coffee, I decided to dabble a spinner. Checking the contents of my creel, I found the plainest spinner you’ve ever seen, called a C.P. Swing, and decided to try it. I removed the worm, hook and split and tied it on. I remember it clearly. I didn’t believe in using swivels then and I still don’t today.

On the second cast my lure kept moving but I was still cranking. It was a 14-inch brook trout. The ivory fins and bright red coloring told me it was a brookie, and I was excited. It seemed to me, then and still to this day, that it was the brightest brook trout I ever caught, and I’ve had a fondness for brookies ever since.

The brook trout is the only native trout to Pennsylvania, except for a lake trout, which really isn’t a trout. The brown trout was brought here from Europe and the rainbow trout is a western trout.

Brook trout rarely get to 14 inches, so the one I caught had to be an old brookie. Brown and rainbow trout do get much bigger. What the brook trout lacks in size it makes up for in its ability to survive in the smallest holes, which can’t possibly hold much food. This was the beginning of my love for spinning and brookies.

I knew what was coming next. My daughter asked me what’s the best water I’ve ever fished. I answered her with “Are we talking big water or stream? Lake Erie, the ocean or streams?”

My favorite medium-size creek is the lower stretch of Sugar Creek. It was in Sugar Creek that I honed my trout-fishing skills in my early years. As for large streams, it would be the Allegheny River between Franklin and Oil City. I spent a lot of time fishing there with my family. A couple of other favorites a little closer to home are Laurel Hill and Jones Mill.

One of the strangest occurrences that happened: I remember parking the car along a road and pulling on my waders while Eileen organized the kids with all their gear. A car went by, and the guy thought we must be nuts. The closest water lay one mile away through some rugged country. But we hiked in anyway. We were searching for the headwaters of Walcott.

I know I have told that story before, but it was such a great memory. The hike would take us on an adventure to a land not many people had ever seen, let alone fished. It was pristine in early spring, with waterfalls and little deep pockets just full of brookies. It still haunts me sometimes to remember just how beautiful that spot really was.

I think tonight I might dream of fishing for brookies. Bright red spots all aglow and leaping around in their small fishy pools. The air cool in early spring and the water so cold. Little tiny holes that cut back under the bank to where Mr. Brook Trout likes to retreat and hide in wait for my C.P. Swing in all its plain glory to hit that pocket.

Now you know that must be a dream as no one uses a lure in a tiny pocket of water. Winter nights are still with us so, for now, I will dream away the hours until trout season.