"What's wrong?" A long, guttural "F______ck," was all I could say. Puzzled, he waited for an explanation. "This river is filled with battleships. I've never seen anything like it. I landed one brown six pounds plus and lost one or two more the same size. It's incredible. They're everywhere. I've got to stop fishing for awhile. I need a rest." Dave spun gravel accelerating to the cabin. Frank had yet to wet a line. As they dressed I drank four soft drinks to rehydrate, then retrieved another jar of fly dope. We verbally divyed up the close water into three sections and it was back out at it. The evening fishing was somewhat anticlimactic. I started far downstream, below the junction of a large, muddy irrigation canal. There, in contrast to the water above, the river was high, off color, and heavily silted. Theoretically the trout were there, but I saw little sign, possibly because the thunderheads closed ranks over the valley, bristled lightning, and poured rain, cutting off any hatch. By the time I had worked back to the muddy canal the rain stopped, twilight sunset flooded back, and I was into rising fish again. In the pool where I had started earlier two fish were rising, and I this time I recognized the lower riseform for what it was, a BIGMOTHER. One cast and it stopped rising. With only a few minutes of light left and due back for dinner I hurried to the best pool right behind the cabin. Two fish were rising along the sweep of the downed tree, but I spotted a surface tremor on the nearside in still, deep water. I covered it and the fly disappeared in a dimple. At the set it exploded into the air, rooted around under the tree for ages looking for a tunnel and eventually came to hand, 5 1/2 to 6 pounds. And that was the end of the day. Dinner table conversation naturally centered around the paradox. Dave had not gotten a Bigfish in the evening. Frank had hooked four for a jump or two only. The first question was simply where did these fish come from. The belief was that these were reservoir fish that ran into the river during the early spring high water and were either stranded or chose to remain through the summer. That would explain their size, shape, and condition. But why would browns, a fall spawner, run up in the spring? And why trout of a size and temperament normally associated with carnivors and cannibals convert so completely to small mayfly feeders. There was a complete range in size from 8 inches to WHATEVER. Frank did point out on the third day that all the big
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