running your own little game and fish operation in them hills were ya?
Oh hell man. I forgot about this: One year (believe '84) the hatchery flooded: Pard and another acquaintance skipped school and filled a kiddy pool twice. I was let in on the gig that weekend and was freaking amazed at what they'd done. The two biggest holes in the two main creeks laid black with trout: Stories peculated back to me overseas about property owners reporting parents guarding broods. I can't confirm this behavior but can confirm the anecdotes.
The above tale of "road fishing" was mainly my senior year and leaves from the Farce. These catches were akin to a lottery. I surmise a few trout had the genetics: Mostly, Pard pulled in chubs or crayfish if the stream wasn't noted for native brook trout. We left those streams alone. I guess it didn't matter as brook trout have a higher acid tolerance; mines, dead leaves and such...
I remember one time we stopped to piss by a culvert obviously set in by a timber operation. While I relieved; Pard dunked a piece of crawler in the pool and caught a fingerling brown. There is no other logical explanation than the DNR also had to piss and stopped there also. We could barely see the river below and the seep was a swamp of leaves all the way down with a small vein which terminated under the duff. We were "up there" on a switchback.
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And a lot of these trout were killed and given to Grandma...The "operation" wasn't perfect. She's still around and loves my dumb ass.