It was cold this weekend. No, not as cold as it will be in a few weeks, but cold nonetheless. The windchill didn't help much either, and because of that I stayed in for most of the weekend tying flies. Until I got the itch Sunday afternoon... If you're reading this, I know you're familiar with the itch. Damn the itch.
I didn't have a lot of time before the Eagles game started at 4:00. (Which in retrospect, the final score proved there was no reason to rush home to watch football). No trout were in the cards for me today, too much time would be wasted in the car travelling to & from the local trout water. Instead I took a quick jaunt over to Sanatoga Park to see if the cold temps chilled the warmwater fish into hiding.
Upon arrival I immediately got to slingin' bugs on my 3-weight and settled into the casting zone. I could have placed a fly wherever I wanted, which is rare, as my casting is normally erratic at best.
Unfortunately I'd be lying if I said the action was fast & furious. Instead, in an hour and a half's worth of time, I ended up catching about a half dozen little bass, just like this guy, and one equally small bluegill.
That was it...and by then, it was time to head home. It was almost time for kickoff and my fingers were completely numb. Luckily, I didn't need them to scratch the itch. The bass took care of that.