A Tale Of Two Streams

In a way it was your quintessential Pennsylvania native brook trout stream. The stream had a nice gradient. Large boulders provided plenty of good trout habitat. Hemlock, yellow birch, and rhododendron comprised the majority of the streamside trees.

Despite the heavy, humid air, the temperature was cool and refreshing on the stream underneath the thickly shaded canopy. Flows were up and cold water temperatures cooled the streamside boulders causing the humid air to condense on many of the large rocks.

Rhododendron flowers provided a bright white and pink colorful contrast to the greens of the surrounding forest. The occasional errant cast into an overhanging rhododendron sent a shower of flowery pink and white petals down onto the water, providing an unusual aesthetic reward for making a bad cast.

The trout in the stream were beautiful-nice fat, colorful wild brook trout, just as nature intended. Every nice pool had several trout; many small pockets of water that I didn't think would hold trout produced brightly colored brookies.

It was a relaxing evening as I fished this section of stream with my cousin. The stream was unfamiliar to either of us, and we were filled with anticipation of what the stream would have in store for us as we rounded each bend.

Our trip was more of a reconnaissance mission than a fishing trip. The primary purpose was to determine if there were trout inhabiting this section of the stream. This section of stream was remote, but I had long considered that it probably held trout even though it was still officially considered dead from pollution. It had just taken me a while to get back in to actually prove my hypothesis with my fishing rod.

Earlier in the day I had been on a small trout stream of similar size. It had been equally beautiful. Each stream has its own characteristics resulting from unique geology, streamside vegetation, and gradient. The stream that morning had been a gem.

Clear water traveled through gorgeous mountain meadows and forests. As I walked along side the stream through one forested section, I was greeted with nice pools and riffles as I rounded each bend. The stream that morning had definitely been a beautiful trout stream.

Ironwood trees and scattered hemlocks comprised some of the many trees providing a cool canopy of shade, an essential ingredient to Pennsylvania wild trout streams. Songbirds serenaded from the riparian forest. Yet, even with all this beauty surrounding it, the stream was dead, devoid of all aquatic life.

It was a tale of two streams. For the one stream it was the best of times, for the other, the worst of times.

The first stream I mentioned, the one that I fished in the evening, was an excellent wild brook trout stream in its headwaters. But human activities had at one point rendered it lifeless in its lower reaches. I had suspected that trout were making a comeback in the upper portion of the polluted stretch. I was delighted to be able to confirm my suspicions.

To see a portion of a stream that is officially considered dead, loaded with trout filled me with joy.

On the other hand, to walk the banks of an equally beautiful stream that only four weeks ago had been teeming with wild brook and brown trout, but now lay dead as result of an unfortunate train wreck and chemical spill was depressing. Such a situation can only bring sorrow and anguish to a lover of natural things. To see the death of a trout stream is to see beauty and perfection destroyed.

I'm glad that I had the chance brighten up things by ending the day catching trout on a section of a stream considered too polluted to hold such fish.

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Several weeks ago WCO Bill Crisp wrote in local newspapers about collecting written statements of eyewitness accounts of the chemical spill and resulting fish kill in the Sinnemahoning Watershed. He wanted those who witnessed anything to write down the dates, times, places, kinds of fish (if identifiable), and approximate numbers (if there weren't too many to count).

I have a feeling many sportsmen probably think that numerous others will write down what they saw, so there is no need for them to provide accounts of the devastation. Such thinking is dangerous in that it leads to nobody providing an eyewitness account.

Many people saw the pollution and fish kill June 30, July1, and July 2. Many were upset. One thing we can do to help out with the ongoing effort is to take the time to record what we saw. It is our duty to record what we saw.

Many people saw some extraordinary fish kills. We need to write it down and send it to the Fish Commission. These eyewitness accounts are cornerstone in any attempt for the Fish Commission to collect money to compensate for the loss of our fisheries.

As sportsmen we're really dropping the ball if we don't provide such information, and we have no ground for complaining when we don't get the results we want out of this case because we didn't do our part. The Fish Commission needs our help.

Mail eyewitness accounts of the fish kill to Fish Commission Pollution Investigation, 732 East Cowley Run Rd, Emporium, PA 15834. Let's all do our part to help out with this disaster.