I've caught scant few wild rainbow trout in New England, which is okay. They shouldn't really be here and they can create significant competition for brook trout especially in small, cold, headwater streams. Because they require very cold runoff in the spring for their early spawning behavior, they're restricted to northern New England, largely Vermont and New Hampshire. Most of the wild rainbows I've caught have in fact been in Vermont. I personally love O. mykiss as a species. They're insectivorous, surface oriented, vibrant, and also as adaptable as is any salmonid. They possess substantial diversity, with forms and subspecies that behave and look quite differently. Unfortunately, most New Englanders' experience is limited to the worst examples of the species: the hideous, hardly functional, barely even real trout hatchery raised version. I'm always looking forward to getting to interact with wild ones again, and when I get to fish for them within their native range I will enjoy that even more. After getting our butts handed to us on the Battenkill on our second morning, I suggested we try a river that was known to hold wild rainbows. In fact, all three trout species we'd have opportunity to target on this trip would be present in this stream.
This was a classic New England trout stream showing multiple characters; descending from the granite hills as a clear, broken freestone before lazily twisting and turning into the valley, gaining size but meandering and creating wonderful cut banks and slow pools. We took a top-down approach, starting in the picturesque and boulder filled upper end. This was a stunning, classic piece of New England brook trout water.
We quickly found, though, that when we say a salmonid in these clear waters with visibly white-tipped fins, it was pretty much without fail a rainbow. I was a bit surprised by how much the rainbows looked like a brook trout in the water, and I'm not quite sure why it was the case. But each time I spotted a fish and watched it for a time, I eventually realized that I was looking at an Oncorhynchus. These elegant little fish acted much like brook trout would in the same water, often hovering mid water column and rising to intercept anything and everything they could. It's an eat or be eaten world for a small trout. Tiny brown trout occupied some of the same water, and they proved easier to bring to hand initially. Perhaps just because I was far less interested in them.
I fished bombers, the perfect sort of fly for this water. In fact this was probably the closest I'd fished the Ausable Bomber to its home of origin. I wasn't
that close, really. The waters where Fran Betters had tested his messy yet immensely productive flies were more than 50 miles away. But his flies were just as at home on the surface of this lovely brook in the Green Mountains as they'd be in the Adirondacks. That bright orange thread, fuzzy possum dubbing, buggy hackle, and buoyant and visible calf tail wing pull up surface oriented and opportunistic trout on small streams everywhere. Eventually, I manged to draw up a wild rainbow with mine and kept it stuck long enough to come to hand.
That upper end proved to be difficult as it had just been fished prior to our passing through. We managed just a handful of fish and covered quite a lot of water. I felt it was time to go downriver, into the flat lands. There we might find larger fish and hopefully less pressure.
When we reached our next destination, I promptly came to the conclusion that this was my kind of stream. Down here, it had a very different character. Meandering through dense brush and farmland, this felt like the kind of small water where some trout of not-small proportions might lurk. Garth and I went separate ways. He headed off downriver while I went up. In the first good run I came to, with another fly of Adirondack origins on (the Ausable Ugly) I deceived three small trutta. Each looked similar, but had very different character from those I've caught in other waters. This is something you'll notice as you begin to really know wild trout. They take on different appearances and characteristics based on where they live. These browns lived in extremely clear water with light colored sandy bottom, they were notably pale by comparison to brown trout I'd catch in other streams on this same trip. I would go so far as to say that I could tell you what stream certain brown trout were caught in just by their appearance alone. The browns in this stream had very plain fins, pale red spots, and salt-and peppery heads. There was variation within the stream, of course, but it was just variation on an identifiable theme. Were I to catch a brown that looked dramatically different here I'd be inclined to believe that it had moved in from a part of the watershed with different habitat.
Continuing upstream, I found an active riser. It was clearly more substantial than any of the other fish I'd cast at, and I figured it would be a fairly easy sell. I tied the bomber back on, and one cast later stuck a very feisty, colorful wild rainbow.
So began a stint of wildly productive small stream dry fly fishing. Most of the fish I'd catch would be rainbows, with the occasional small brown mixed in. Many were fish I spotted prior to making a cast, I luxury I don't always have on Connecticut's small streams. I was having a very enjoyable time.
When I reached the limit of what I could fish headed upstream to meet back up with Garth. Though he wasn't skunked, he'd yet to catch a wild rainbow and I wanted to make sure he did on this trip. We ate lunch before heading out to try to find another stretch even further down to fish.. Both access and cell service were poor and we failed to locate another area to park and fish. That was alright, because on the way down to meet back up with Garth I'd seen a rather impressive fish, a rainbow in the mid teens residing in a classic meadow pool. I though we might get a shot at that fish if and evening rise started.
We found ourselves on that pool as the sun set. Tiny mayflies, I think they were needhami or something similar, and a few caddis were emerging. There was maybe a half dozen trout rising in the pool. I gave Garth the first go, knowing most of these would be rainbows. Two were sipping bugs towards the back of the pool. We were careful and deliberate in getting into position as well as presenting to the fish. I figured they wouldn't all that selective given their behavior throughout the day and the mixed hatch. When caddis are mixing in with small mayflies, I find that trout will often pick caddis out willingly even when slurping the slough of smaller bugs. I figured a Sedgehammer would be an effective fly.
Garth got into place and began casting to the furthest back of the fish in the pool. It took a little time, he isn't well practiced in the dry fly game, but he finally got his wild rainbow. Now I was up at bat. I set my sights further up the pool where what I suspected was the larger fish I'd spotted earlier in the day was rising. I landed the Sedgehammer in the seem and the trout promptly rose to it. I lifted the rod and a silver bullet went airborne, flying across the pool. It landed darn near on the bank and caught some loose grass on the leader. Moment late it came off. Bummer though it was to lose the king of that pool, that was quite a spectacle to end the day on as well. Rainbows fight especially well. The spirit of a sizable wild rainbow is almost unbeatable.
The unfortunate reality is, though the whole length of this stream would indeed have wild salmonidae and be spectacular brook trout habitat, the only brook trout we'd catch in that stream was one Garth got that looked to me to be a stocker. I caught one brook trout that morning on the Battenkill and she was a stunner of a wild fish.
It was quite clear that the abundant rainbows, which more or less match the niche that brook trout would fill in this small stream environment, with the added factor of brown trout also being present, is keeping this from being the incredible native brook trout stream it so easily could and should be. It's a shame that our species so often feels the need to play God. Though I enjoyed fishing for these wild rainbows, had that been a mid-teens brook trout I hooked in that one pool I'd have been no less happy. Where possible both physically and socially, we should be reclaiming these streams. This stream likely isn't the easiest one to reclaim. There are so many others like it across the country that could be thriving native fisheries no less interesting and fishable than the currently existing non-natives.
Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Franky, Geof, Luke, Noah, Justin, Sean, Tom, Mark, Jake, Chris, and Oliver for making Connecticut Fly Angler possible. If you want to support this blog, look for the Patreon link at the top of the right side-bar in web version.
