It’s Mrs. Finspot‘s birthday today and I figure she’d like to see—relive, really—these shots of her boy catching yet another fibby, as his sister would say. The kid is automatic. Seven years of spending every available moment in the woods have taught him well.
I’ve already talked up the virtues of the brook trout. Next in line is the cutthroat (Oncorhynchus clarki), several sub-species of which are native to the western U.S. and taken together are known for their rather trusting habits. Cutthroats don’t spook quite as easily as other types of trout, and there isn’t a flashy lure or fly that can’t elicit a vigorous hello from them, not unlike being jumped by a slobbering St. Bernard. Cutthroats, it sometimes seems, simply beg to be caught.
Which is why we give them the thumb’s-up for the family backpacking trip to a subalpine lake. The lake in question was more like a high country tarn, with a perimeter of dense undergrowth forming a protective barrier against the lesser angling lights. But faced with two seven-year-olds wielding Scooby Doo rods, the cutties didn’t stand a chance.