salmonoid
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2007
- Messages
- 2,777
Fished Spring Creek from about 9:45PM-11:45PM Monday evening. Air temp was low 30's when I started, dropping to mid 20's when I ended. Water temp was a balmy 41 degrees. No hatches were observed. I am on a mission to try and take a trout at night, with a mouse, in each month of the year. The forecasted snow rearranged my travel schedule a bit, so I was in State College a night earlier than expected. And this was my attempt for the January night fish. I'd like to report that I landed a slab of a brown, but that would not be the case on this outing. I did, however, confirm that limestone browns will definitely take a swipe at a mouse at night, as I had to solid hits that I detected (audible and visual). I probably should have switched it up and gone sub-surface with a big streamer, but for now, mice are my night-time goal.
Despite the lack of fish, it was still a memorable outing. I was not in the least bit cold - I fished without gloves the whole time. The moon was waning but rose behind the clouds about the time I got there and by the time I left, the night time was lit up with cloud-filtered moonlight and high pressure sodium lights light pollution (giving areas an orange glow, as if large quantities of buildings were on fire) all acentuated by the reflectivity of a dusting of snow on the ground. I was startled at one point by a strange sound overhead, but it turned out to be a lone goose that winged its way upstream, and then back down, honking and cackling as it flew. There was the requisite sound, at one point, of a large tree, or something, crashing to the ground on the other side of the stream. I spotted a fisher or a mink on the other side of the stream, and startled a muskrat, who was probably wondering what a two-legged creature carrying a portable sun was doing out there at that time of the evening. And there were the random splashes, as fish surfaced every now and then, and whatever other creatures lurk beneath the night time surface. The January night fish has eluded me thus far, but it's out there, somewhere.
Aside from not catching a fish, the biggest challenge of the night was getting my frozen boot laces untied.
Despite the lack of fish, it was still a memorable outing. I was not in the least bit cold - I fished without gloves the whole time. The moon was waning but rose behind the clouds about the time I got there and by the time I left, the night time was lit up with cloud-filtered moonlight and high pressure sodium lights light pollution (giving areas an orange glow, as if large quantities of buildings were on fire) all acentuated by the reflectivity of a dusting of snow on the ground. I was startled at one point by a strange sound overhead, but it turned out to be a lone goose that winged its way upstream, and then back down, honking and cackling as it flew. There was the requisite sound, at one point, of a large tree, or something, crashing to the ground on the other side of the stream. I spotted a fisher or a mink on the other side of the stream, and startled a muskrat, who was probably wondering what a two-legged creature carrying a portable sun was doing out there at that time of the evening. And there were the random splashes, as fish surfaced every now and then, and whatever other creatures lurk beneath the night time surface. The January night fish has eluded me thus far, but it's out there, somewhere.
Aside from not catching a fish, the biggest challenge of the night was getting my frozen boot laces untied.
