I think somewhere around half of my success as an angler is accidental. I'd like to think that I've built some skill over the years but the facts tell a different story. Daydreaming on the stream, I've watched my indicator swim away and then half-heartedly raised the rod tip and been rewarded with a fish too lazy to spit the hook. I've caught more fish on the dangle while searching my fly boxes than I care to admit. I've caught trout when I was fishing for bass and bass while fishing for trout. The catching seems like a random mystery but that's probably because that's what it is.
Sunday was supposed to be an afternoon on a big river with a small group of friends but for a variety of reasons I didn't get out the door at an hour reasonable enough to justify the drive. In the past I've driven two hours to fish for two hours so it's not as if doing something foolish is out of my comfort zone but on Sunday the mojo wasn't right. By the time I had my gear assembled the sun was heading for the hilltops and skeeters were buzzing like they do on a warm summer's evening.
I took my black lab, Ripley, with me to fish a small stream about five minutes from the house. She's a good girl who generally doesn't cause trouble but she does distract me so she usually stays at home when I’m fishing. But this was a lark so along she came. She stood next to me in calf deep water as I cast, seemingly confused at our purpose but reluctant to abandon me. She's a good team player.
