This book is bargain priced from 04/15/2014 until 04/21/2014
TROUT FISHING FOR BODIES
poor little trout fish – bring on the butter and skillet, but please, developers, leave the river alone.
“Roosevelt, please,” my Guardian Angel pleaded, putting his hands together like he was praying. “Let me warn you one more time. I don’t feel good about this. I have no doubt trout fishing is going to cause you nothing but grief.”
For a brief moment I hesitated, my Guardian Angel pleading was completely out of character, but warning or no warning I am going trout fishing My Guardian Angel followed behind me shaking his head and muttering. The only words I could pick out were ‘stupid’ and ‘brain dead’.
At the head of the trail that runs beside the stream I stopped. Beside the trail were four freshly cut pine boughs stacked on top of each other – each about three feet long. Seeing them puzzled me and for an instant made me feel paranoid. “It is really getting bad when tree branches start bothering you,” my Guardian Angel said. “You old hippies didn’t inhale pine needles did you?”
I have had paranoid attacks in my life, but this one is ridiculous.
I came around a small bend in the river and there was a pool over ten feet wide and twenty feet long. The water was so deep I couldn’t see the bottom of the stream. A thick stand of red alders grew on the far side of the pool. There was no way there wasn’t a trout waiting anxiously for my wooly worm in the deep swirling water. A skittish water spider darted away from me as I cast my wooly worm. My Guardian Angel leaned back against a tree with a worried look on his face – either that or he had an attack of gas.
Targeted Age Group: adult