It was a month early, but the snow in my front yard was gone — my normal signal to string up my fly rod, tie on a pink squirmy wormy, and shake the rust off my cast. I wasn't expecting much — it just seemed too early for fish to be running up our creeks and rivers — but as my wife is prone to saying, I was wrong.
I parked the car at my normal spot, next to a couple other anglers who had the same idea. As I walked to the water, I realized I knew one. Jordan yelled, "Hi, Rodney. You picked a good day to fish!"
"I hope so," I said. "Seems early."
Instead of responding, Jordan tipped his rod, set the hook, and started reeling in a big Rainbow in the hole I was planning to fish. Dang him!
