We first tried to connect her to a trout at the Catskill Fly Fishing Center on the Willowemoc Creek. When Grandpa failed to produce a hook up after ten minutes of fishing with a fly, Alyssa pouted and told me, "Flies are no good. Why aren't we fishing with worms the way Matthew did?" Since bait fishing is banned on this stretch of the Willowemoc, we ceased fishing until another day.

When Matthew was here, he had a good fish snap the spinning line when it suddenly surged away upstream. For Alyssa's use, I had taped the spinning reel onto the handle of an Orvis One weight fly rod. I also loosened the drag slightly on the reel. With a longer, more limber rod and lighter drag the possibility of a fish breaking off was diminished. On Friday evening after dinner Barbara and I took her to fish a small tributary of the Delaware. The well known fishing writer of the 40's and 50's, Ray Bergman, once declared this stream to be the prettiest of all the Catskill streams. As luck would have it, we no sooner began to fish than the heavens opened up. I have never seen it rain any harder than that evening. One small fish took the bait, jumped at once, threw the hook and that was it for the night. By the time we returned to the car, Barb, Alyssa and I were drowned rats. Time was running out for Alyssa to catch her first trout.

Saturday, in an attempt to fish prior to any cloud bursts, we went before dinner. The little tributary was up slightly, but was running clear. The first pool did not yield so much as a nibble. My heart began to sink. There would be only time to fish one more pool. In the next pool, several low-hanging limbs offered a great chance to hang the worm up in a tree. My first cast was too cautious, falling well short of the deeper water in the pool. It was time to go for broke. I took a deep breath, and flipped the worm towards an opening in the tree limbs. The worm arced out over the water and fell precisely down through the opening I was aiming for. Plop, went the worm into the pool. The tiny foam bobber barely touched the water before it was yanked under and darted off upstream. I struck and a fish was on. Lissy sprang to my side and I handed her the rod. Twice the trout lept clear out of the water, trying to rid itself of the hook. On several occasions, it was strong enough to pull line off of the spinning reel despite Alyssa's vigorous cranking of the reel handle. After a number moments, I was able to cradle a gorgeous 13 inch Brook trout in my hands. What a magnificent fish the little Texas cowgirl had corralled for her first ever trout. In fact that fish is the largest Brook trout anyone in the family has ever caught. In Lissy's eyes, Grandpa's reputation as a fisher-for-trout was restored. I took a quick picture, then let her gently touch the fish. In a very concerned voice she asked, "Will it be all right Grandpa?"

"You bet, I told her, I'll just cut the leader at the hook eye and back home he goes." The fish lay in my hands for a moment, then off it swam, back under the protection of the limbs.

The Tangler took his own advice this week and went fishing. John Liberati, from White Plains, New York, and I hit Callicoon Creek and the Delaware on Sunday. John took two Rainbows, about ten inches long, on a Dette yellow stone fly nymph.

On the Delaware below Callicoon, where a long riffle begins to flatten out into a pool, I hooked an acrobatic little Rainbow 11 inches long on an Isonychia Bead Head nymph. The dressing for this fly was given in my last column.

Later in the week, Peter Kolesar, a friend of the Upper Delaware Chapter of Trout Unlimited, and I went over the hill to fish the Willowemoc. Peter took one small Brown on a nymph and missed a couple of rises to a Hopper pattern. I experimented with different flys and tactics but none of my casts induced a trout to eat. The Willowemoc had a good flow and was running at a perfect 66 degrees. I can think of no excuses to offer, but heck, you know my nickname.

Ran into Billy Fraser, the guide from Hankins, New York, in Peck's parking lot. He told me that one of his sports took a ten pound Walleye from the Delaware in the vicinity of Callicoon. That's a big fish in any league.

By the time you read this, the Epheron Leukon mayfly, "The White Fly," should be hatching on the Delaware. This hatch usually begins 30 minutes or so before dark. The imitation should be a size 14. The large number of flies hatching in a compressed period of time will usually put the trout on the prowl for an evening snack. I always enjoy fishing this hatch, however, this year I may have to forgo that pleasure. If the river temperatures climb past 72 degrees, I do not fish for trout. The trout will fight themselves to exhaustion while being played to the net. Even if released at once, the chances of their recovering are slim to none. Please take a stream thermometer along with you. If the reading you get is over 72 degrees, let the trout be.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy. If the river is cool, I hope to see you on the stream.