Fly Fishing Panfish in the South

A thin ribbon of water cuts through a forest. A shadowy figure rests in a hole among the branches of a fallen tree just out of the current. A roll cast, necessary because of the limited space for a back cast, places a #10 woolly bugger gently near the fish. Slowly pulling in line, the fly moves within striking distance. The fish pounces. Grabbing its prey, it turns back to the safety of the submerged log. You set the hook and a short but ferocious fight ensues. He is very small. Too small to keep but the bright greens flowing seamlessly to red are captivating. You let the little bream go, gather up your line, and continue your trek along the clear, tannin-stained creek somewhere in the southern United States.

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