Lately, Wally the Wonderdog has developed a pleading look in his eye. Though he's getting daily walks with Little M, our fly fishing adventure count was down. Way down.

And while the Wonderdog is fine with a quick circle around the block, he's not really alive unless he's in the woods, sniffing everything in sight for clues to other animals.



So the choice was clear: In the couple hours I had available, I could run downriver to a fairly reliable BWO hatch - a place the Wonderdog wasn't welcome - or reconnoiter upriver, where the deer and the Wonderdogs play (though the BWOs often don't).

Despite the spotty hatches, I stayed upriver, and Wally the Wonderdog and I had a fine adventure - a day out bereft of other people, disasters, bugs and yes - trout.

Let's get the ugly bits out of the way.

From 12:30 until 3:00 - and on four different pieces of water - I saw the following bugs:

None.

From 12:30 until 3:00, I saw the following number of rising trout:

None.

From 12:30 until 3:00, I witnessed the following number of grabs:

One.

That last came courtesy the Big Bug - an October Caddis I tied on after the lack of BWOs became apparent. It's a little late in the year for the big dry to reliably attract grabs, but in the absence of other clues, it's not a bad backup.

Despite the overcast and constant light drizzle - perfect BWO weather - I never saw a bug.

In truth, the winter hatches on the upstream part of the river are far more sporadic than those of the mid-river region, and while I told myself I was scouting water in the hopes of finding close-to-home trout, I also knew it was a long shot.

Still, when Wally the Wonderdog reminds you with a searing glance that he hadn't been fishing since the height of the October Caddis hatch, your priorities tilt away from trout and towards the dog.

True to form, the Wonderdog was like a racehorse breaking from the gate; constantly in and out of the water, he ran around like the Energizer Hound, sniffing every bush and shrub for signs that other animals might be abusing his wilderness.



On a handful of occasions he spotted water drops falling from overhanging limbs and hitting the water, and - thinking they were rising trout - ran full tilt into the water after them.

If they had been rising trout, I'd have sighed and rolled my eyes. Because they were just water, the whole event became good clean fun.

If it's one thing fatherhood is teaching me, it's that you can rage against the universe when things don't quite work out, or you can sit back and try see the humor in it all.

While us humans wrap ourselves up in a Gordian existence cluttered with expectation and righteousness and denial, the Wonderdog sees rings on the water and runs in after the trout that must be there.

He's more excited than I am when I hook a fish, and he's also (apparently) the more forgiving of the pair when I don't.

Thus, today's heavy-handed morality play; If a big, dumb dog can have the time of his life running up and down a cold, wet, apparently trout-less river, why can't the big, dumb human with him?

The Gear Stuff
New on the testing front are a pair of Orvis "Sonic Seam" pack && travel waders (disclosure: Orvis - apparently knowing of my love for hike-in trout - sent these to me for testing).

Look for an introductory post soon.

Also, the Underground's wading boot test is winding down, and while I've already made my preferences clear in prior posts, a final wrap-up is necessary in the interest of closure if nothing else.

Also, Orvis replaced my broken Zero Gravity 6wt with a similar Hydros model, and while it's not exactly 6wt season up here, I plan to beat on the thing a bit to see what happens.

See you on the river (Wonderdog in tow), Tom Chandler.