It lurks - gulping, fins quivering to pass water back so as to stay put as the big eyes watch for something to nibble....
Currents part to drop tastey bits where it waits in front of a submerged rock.
Shade covers the wooded creek, and muddy banks with grass edged trails above show signs of people taking shortcuts between suburbs, or along the regional parks, but no hint of an angler or his shadow on the rocks down in the creek cut through the forrest.
Something wriggles as it drowns, and the great trout snaps it up!
A line pulls taught, not over four pound test - and the battle and hunt begins....
THAT is fishing as I know it.
I bagged a lot around Rockville, and the Potomac river in younger days. The northwest branch had trout, and rock creek chiefly had eel.