After stepping gingerly down a slick bank following a thunderstorm, I was struck by a lively creek in the middle of a metro area. Leaving out the truck and traffic sounds from a road on the other side of the creek and that I had struggled to find parking with hundreds of picnickers at the park, I could have been on a pristine stream in the Wisconsin hinterlands.
Growing up, I honed my fishing on streams and creeks. Flowing water still touches my soul more than a lake.
On a practical level, I read streams much better than I do lakes or ponds.
Of course there are realities to fishing urban waters. Walking in, crumpled snack plastics, aluminum cans and plastic bottles spotted the brush and trail.
At the creek, I first noticed the small rapids coming out of a bend, then saw the abandoned tire, a perfect black circle, near shore. The juxtaposition made me laugh.
My first cast with a popper sailed perfectly into the eddy beside the rapids. I expected a smallmouth bass to explode immediately. Nothing. Worked the rapids and areas below well, then went over it with my second rod and a Ned rig. Nothing.
Frankly, I was irked.
Maybe it's arrogance, but I know stream fishing well enough to expect to catch something. Couldn't even get a rock bass.
Then an eastern wood-pewee seemed to taunt me by staying invisible and dropping pee-a-wee sounds. All the same I was happy to hear it in that setting.
I waded upstream through a long flat stretch, which didn't interest me, to another bend with a rapids and a massive eddy.
I worked the eddy perfectly and had nothing. But, spreading out, I hooked a small smallmouth in a swirl at the bottom of the rapids, then a respectable 10-inch smallmouth on the next cast. That reassured me that the creek held fish.
Beforehand, using the techniques of the late Norm Minas (the cleverness of his old nom de plume, creekyknees, still makes me smile), I had went over numerous maps online to figure out public access. Minas initially learned spots by using paper topographic and county maps.
The stream certainly looked promising: small mussel shells all over and lots of bends, riffles and rapids. But, it also smelled like classic urban waters, overly rich with human organic matter (to be polite). It brought back memories of John Farmer describing the Calumet odor as "the 31 flavors of Baskin-Robbins" in the late 1990s.
It's also why, though I love wet wading in swim trunks and old sneakers, in this water I wore hip waders.
Nearing sunset when the park closed, I carefully climbed another slick bank by grabbing handfuls of weeds and brush, then ambled back in fading light.
It was time.
At the car, I cleaned my hands with damp wipes from a package I keep for after such wanderings.
Waterfowl blind draws are this weekend, the area ones on Saturday and most of the Downstate ones Sunday.
Reports keep coming of a black bear wandering southern Illinois, first reported near Carrier Mills (Saline County) two weeks ago. Significantly, sighting of a black bear wandering Illinois is news, but no longer earth-shattering. All the same, reports of black bears, cougars and gray wolves in Illinois may be reported at wildlifeillinois.org/report-sightings/report-large-carnivore-sightings/.
May the Chicago Bears winning games become even more frequent than a black bear wandering Illinois.
