Surplus
(Birthday trout of 2026)
5/04/26
Surplus; An amount of something left over when the requirements have been met.
I consider the in-season stocking of trout as surplus trout that the Fish Commission had left over in their raising facilities. Well, Friday they stocked about 8-9 buckets of these surplus trout in the creek out from my camper. The 2 buckets I did see guys throw in, as if feeding alligators at a zoo, where rainbow trout. This was around noon. I was told this was the first stop and was to continue upstream stocking the rest of the surplus trout in the creek.
After the stocking, Friday, fishermen came and gone trying their luck. It was a cold and rainy day and the fishermen didn’t stay more than an hour. Not that I was watching them continuously but I didn’t see anyone catch anything and I figured if they were catching trout they would of stayed longer. By 3:00 I couldn’t stand it any longer, knowing that there were all those trout in the creek just out from my camper, I had to give it a try. I assembled my old SAS Scott 8’ 6” 5 weight fly rod and got my gear on. To get a better drift, and away from the bank fishermen, I crossed the creek upstream and fished from the opposite bank. I caught a few in the couple of hours but it surely was slow going. The bank fishermen weren’t doing all that better either. I figured the trout weren’t accustomed to the colder temperature of the creek water as the water in the truck tank they came in. Maybe like being a newcomer at the factory picnic and too shy to participate in the activities.
Saturday the trout weren’t all that active either. Again fishermen and women came and gone throughout the morning and afternoon. I wasn’t sure how many were caught but what I could tell that not many as they didn’t hang around too long either. By the evening I was fishing, from across creek, and another fisherman was fishing off the bank. We caught a share of trout but again the trout participation wasn’t all gung-ho.
Sunday was a whole different story. I was out early, though it was in the high 30’s. The creek was in great condition with a greenish color and dropped some from not raining much the day before. There were actually flurries in the morning that came down drifting in the slight breeze like pollen while we were fishing. I was casting Woolly Buggers, from the opposite bank, as another fisherman was throwing bait from the camper side of the creek. He was catching trout one after another with just about every cast when he started. He commented that the trout were really hungry. If he told his friends he was catching trout, one after another, they might not believe him but I witnessed the event. As time went on I caught some on the Woolly Buggers but was no match to as many as he was catching.
He said he was using shrimp scented salmon eggs. From where I stood the salmon eggs looked reddish.
One thing a fly fisherman can’t imitate and that is flavor of our offerings. I figured that the trout that fisherman was missing, the salmon egg would have of either been eaten by the missed trout or drifted downstream and sure enough another trout had a free meal. I knotted on a pink-blood dot sucker spawn under a beaded Oregon Cheese sucker spawn. I started to fish down creek from him and my hook up rate increased.
After an hour or so later he commented that he emptied a bottle and a half of those salmon eggs. He said he could hardly feel his finger, from the coldness of air and water, and called it quits. He said he caught 30 trout. I actually believed him and he might have miscounted on the lower side!
Monday, after turkey hunting, I decided to take a drive upstream. I was kind of tired fishing the same water, in front of the camper, catching the surplus trout. As I drove up the dirt road I was surprised at the number of parked vehicles along the side of the road in good fishing spots for a Monday. Anyhow, I continued to drive up creek until I got to a section where only one truck was parked up the road a bit. I assembled my new Scott Session 8’6” fly rod, made sure I had enough supplies, and headed down the path to the creek. I was ready for a long adventure.
I started off swinging a Woolly Bugger in the wavy riffling current as I was crossing and heading downstream. After a few casts a trout grabbed the bugger hard like a husky guy surprising an agitator, with a choke hold, trying to fool around with his trophy girlfriend! It was the hardest take of my Woolly Bugger since fishing the creek since setting up camp. My 4 weight bowed and pointed to the struggling trout as the trout scurried and tugged in the oncoming current. Bringing him up in the oncoming current was a task. He pulled and tugged until I got him in the slower current near me. There he stayed low and maybe tried to take a breather from his hard energetic fought battle. I wasn’t going to let him take a breather. I lifted the rod and he rose flipping his tail in anger but I was able to scoop him up in the net.
This was only the second brown trout I had caught while camping along the creek. It was a dandy brown at that. I’m not sure he was just transplanted as surplus but I would bet he’s been in here since the original stocking in March or a holdover.
Wading down creek I wasn’t getting any nudges for awhile. I was switching from different color Woolly Buggers to different shades of triple threats. I’d cast towards the far bank and let the streamer swing down creek. I was surprised I didn’t get a strike before I got to a deeper section of creek.
Now, when I say deeper section of this upper section of the creek I’m not implying that it’s over my head. Maybe waist deep at the most. The sun was nearly above but the forest leafy trees cast shadows on the deeper hole down creek from where I stood. I have caught many of trout in recent years, in this section, so I was expecting some action. Kind of like going into a packed nightclub with loud music and aggressive girls that want to dance!
I was casting a Woolly Bugger down and across creek letting it swing in the slower current in the deeper section. I would lengthen the line after each cast so the bugger swung down further. I waded a couple of steps down towards the hole but kept my distance. Another cast the bugger dropped near the far bank and I was watching the arc in the floating line when WHAM! A fish grabbed the bugger like a cop grabbing an unsuspecting suspect by the wrist. I reared back the rod for a tight hook set, but I do believe the way the fish grabbed the bugger he set the hook into his jaw himself.
The Scott rod bowed deep and wavered as the trout tugged ferociously on the other end like the suspect trying to shake the handcuffs loose from the cop's grasp. He turned and headed for an underbrush down creek and the Hardy light reel clicked like the last 10 seconds of a time bomb. I held the line tight and moved the rod down creek and towards my side of the bank to keep him from going under the underbrush cross creek. Hoping my 5x tippet and knots hold tight, I coaxed him into the center of the stream. He followed with yanking tugs. Once out of danger I swung the rod level with the surface water across from me trying to force him to swim upstream. He tugged and tried pulling away but the torque of the arced rod was too much and he swam up creek defiantly. Once, almost across from me, I saw a bright ribbon of red along his side like a crimson ribbon in a lighted museum display. I swung the rod downstream again trying to bring him down from me but he held tight in the oncoming current. I lifted the rod some putting side pressure on him. My forearm tightened and my grip on the cork was tight despite my arthritic fingers. He finally succumbed to the pressure, turned, and swam down creek from me. Trying to bring him into shallower water wasn’t his idea of a better escape and swam back into the deeper pool of water. Again I forced him up creek and when he got close enough to seeing me, I suppose, he didn’t like the circumstance he was in and darted away. Not wanting a bunch of line laying on the water I was reeling in line when he let me.
Knowing he didn’t like the shallower water near the bank I knew I had to net him in the knee deep water around me. After a few more head-shakes I had him down creek from me and was bring him upstream. He followed my lead till he swam up creek from me. I took my net out with my left hand and held it in the water with the line pinched against the cork grip with my right hand. Slowly I backed him up to the net as I raised the rod. He turned but it was too late for him to escape. He turned right into the net head first!
Now, I’ve netted some whopper birthday trout in my time. Though he wasn’t quite the whopper, I don’t remember one being as pretty. Under the sunshine his crimson sash seemed to glow. It was if he won the red sash in a beauty contest among his trout peers! Though it’s been a few weeks since my birthday I christened him as my birthday trout. He was just a late surprise present! I unhooked the bugger from his jaw and set him free.
I lit a Surplus stogie for a just reward.
I fished down creek some and caught one more rainbow on a Woolly Bugger.
I returned to where I caught the prize fish and caught two rainbows on a dry caddis.
With my back and arthritic fingers aching I called it a day and returned to the camper. It was a fine day on the water.
Friday morning I opened the door of my camper to go outside. Across the creek, in a tree, a bald eagle was sitting on a branch. I think he was looking for one of those surplus trout!
~doubletaper
