Spring tonic for the soul
A wild brookie in a pristine spring trickle hovers over hope. Beneath the gravel which she carefully prepared lay the seeds of a new generation.
Wild Brook Trout of Southeastern Massachusetts
The first prerequisite for students and advocates of our watery places should be to spend a late fall afternoon laying on the mossy earth beneath towering hemlocks and yellow birches, on the banks of one of our rarest habitats and species, the spring brook and the wild brook trout.
You can't help but sense an unmistakable purity while watching the mating dance of wild brookies through the crystal water of a spring brook meandering through an old growth lowland forest.
Watching this scene, I feel as if I am laying in mother natures footprints.
A spot where she walked slowly in perfect solitude, pondering all that was good. As she pondered these things the earth was compressed beneath her, water of the purest kind was pushed up from all around trickling down, collecting in the trail behind her.
Turning back to look upon what had formed in her wake she exhaled a quiet breath. This breath was transformed into tiny crystals in the cold December air. When these crystals born of Mother Natures breath settled into the trickles around her the wild brookie's came to be.
Sometime toward the end of Febuary, the gravel bed so carefully prepared by the mother brookie begins to stir. As skunk cabbages begin sprouting and winter stoneflies begin hatching a sliver of hope, a reminder of things lost, emerges from the stream bed.