Pennsylvania Angler & Boater - September/October 2014 - 20

illustration-Ron Kuhn

Rock Bass Fishing
on Small Streams
The stream swirled around an old oak tree that had lost
its battle with the stream many years ago. Over time, the
water had eroded the bank, and the tree had pushed its
taproot and spread its other roots outward to support its
large trunk. When Jack was a young boy, the neighborhood kids claimed that a Confederate soldier had died
at the base of its trunk, but there wasn't official record
of it. All that was left was the trunk and several main
limbs that had been worn down like a candy cane in the
hands of a child in December. A school of Rock Bass and
Bluegills made the underside of the oak tree their home
every season. Jack's son Ethan would occasionally sneak
down by the stream and cast a small Muddler Minnow or
Letort Cricket upstream to float past the hungry school
of fish to see if he could best the largest one he caught
from last season.
Several seasons ago, a Rock Bass fought its way to the
edge of the bank. When the young angler put his hand
over the spiny dorsal fin, he noticed that a raccoon had
once held the fish and took a bite out of it. It had healed
over and formed a half moon shape missing from its back.
Geese flew overhead, and the woods took on the
smell of fall as the fiddlehead ferns began their annual
cycle of turning brown where a field of green had once
been. Several casts brought several small Creek Chubs
and Bluegills to the face of the water. A few Rock Bass,

Pennsylvania Angler & Boater * September/October 2014

by Ron Kuhn

but nothing of size, were also occasionally caught.
Ethan worked his way downstream to an old bridge
that led up to a dirt lane and farm. The farm was built
from American chestnut trees that dotted the landscape
hundreds of years ago.
In the footer of the bridge, a young man's name and the
year 1963 were permanently scrawled into the concrete
along with a small circular imprint where a penny of the
same year was once placed but had washed away from the
brutal elements. The young man disappeared from the
landscape that year and was never seen again but lived on
forever in the hearts and minds of the locals who knew
him and his heroism on a foreign shore.
Ethan paused for a moment and proceeded
downstream, thankful for the many opportunities he
had in the outdoors. Several Fallfish took the line in the
riffles downstream from the bridge, always making the
impression of a trout on the other end. The young boy
made his way downstream to the next series of pools
where he could dap the line out onto the dark surface of
the water to entice another Rock Bass to the top. Darkness
was approaching and the air had a coolness with it that
hadn't been felt since springtime. Fall was returning once
again to chill the fields and woods and give way to winter.
Summer was losing the battle just as the old oak had but
would return after a victorious spring.
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Pennsylvania Angler & Boater - September/October 2014

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