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Angling for change
When are anglers more likely to catch trout, and with what success? According to the commissions study, anglers caught slightly more stocked fish after opening weekend than during the first-day crush. The catch rate was 1.0 trout per hour opening weekend and 1.13 fish per hour afterward. On wild trout streams, fishermen caught 1.76 brook trout per hour on small streams, 0.51 brookies per hour on large streams, and 0.56 brown trout per hour on large streams. Ken Undercoffer looks at the state's wild trout and sees enormous potential. "Devoted trout fishermen pursue them from early spring well into the fall, and sometimes even into winter," said Undercoffer, a former Greensburg resident who lives in Clearfield and serves as president of the Pennsylvania Council of Trout Unlimited.
Lampreys put a bite on lake trout
Lake trout, once the dominant predator on Lake Michigan, are so rare these days that salmon have replaced them as the fish of choice whenever a backyard boil is in order. While most longtime big-lake anglers admit today's salmon and steelhead are far more fun to catch, high-fat lake trout have a one-of-a-kind taste after being boiled with potatoes, salt and onions and smothered in melted butter. "They're a little better tasting, a little more moist," said Denny VanDenBerg of Kewaunee, who has been boiling fish for almost 50 years. "They might fight like a log, but then again, so do walleyes." Brian Frerk of Green Bay gives away almost all of the salmon and trout he catches while fishing with his 6-year-old son, Josh. He may not fully understand, then, the love affair with lake trout by those who grew up with them when they were the only game in town in the 1960s or who targeted them in spring or whenever nothing else would bite on slow days from the 1970s to the 1990s.
Injured vets strong-arm the river
Bond - The trout rose and sipped a mayfly off the surface of the Colorado River. Joshua Williams caught the small disturbance on the water from the corner of his eye. Standing in a drift boat, he raised his fly rod and the trout rose again and gulped in the artificial fly on the end of the line. And suddenly, Williams was in trouble. He'd done this a hundred times before on the rivers and creeks around his home in Virginia, passionately throwing a fly at rising trout, holding the long rod in his right hand and gently stripping in the slack line with his left, a delicate two-handed operation. But on Friday, the baby-faced 22-year-old Army staff sergeant who spent a hellish year engaged in street combat in Iraq had a problem. He didn't have a right hand. The trout surged into the current.
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