It’s streamer time. And not just for hucking the big stuff on the big waters like the ‘Stone and the Missouri, but even more so for throwing / swinging streamers on cricks and creeks using lighter gear (opens up a whole new world).
Blue wings and soft hackles on an uncrowded Firehole River.
Spey gear, recently languishing on the summer storage shelf, begins to sing its siren’s call. Resistance is futile.
Fall colors. April showers may bring May flowers and that seductive, oh-so-welcomed spring green up but Ma Nature outdoes herself with the glorious colors of fall. The transition seasons make life worth living.
The pace of fall fishing is a welcome change. No longer pushed by summer’s heat and low flows to be on the water by 0500, there’s time for a hearty, two-cup-of-coffee breakfast after an extra hour of sleep. And there’s still only two trailers at the put-in.
Elk. They’re bugling, breeding, foraging within arms reach in the Park (YNP) and occasionally occupying the sights of a hardworking bow hunter.
Summer tourists have abandoned their Winnebagos and are back home shepherding kids to school, hating their day jobs and drowning their sorrows with cheap beer by the cube and falls sports broadcast on the idiot box. They may have laughed at your dirty pickup and workman’s garb in July, but most’d hand over the house and their 401K to be in your shoes about now.
Bird season. If you love the upland season you just smiled reading this; if you’ve not tried it, you’ve missed one of the greatest days an outdoor loving person might enjoy. A day spent strolling bird country with your best-loved shotgun and compatible compadres is worth the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
