I rode down into the Rouge valley this morning hoping to play tug 'o' war with a few salmon but I had some difficulty finding any willing participants.
Around one bend in the river, down a long run and around another bend, seeing the occasional redd here and there but no occupants.
Farther down stream a dead tree ate my fly as if it were one of Charlie Browns kites. Rats!
I re-tied and continued on downstream, still trying to figure out this river and it's unusual migration. After several miles of wading I'd come to the conclusion that I'd gotten everything this river was willing to give for the day. On the return trip the fly eating tree offered up a peace present in the form of a woodpecker too busy securing dinner to notice me sneaking up on him.
I felt further blessed as I came upon my vanquished foe from a few hours before. He'd fully recovered from his ordeal and had found a girlfriend in the meantime.