At one time a small stream wound its way through my front yard on it’s way to a destination pond some miles away. My stream, as I came to think of it, held a healthy supply of water year round and supported a myriad assortment of frogs, snakes, muskrats and minnows that lived in and around this constant source of life giving water.

The musical notes of the tumbling water as it cascaded over and amongst the rocks and roots could be heard on a quiet summer eve and added to the overall pleasure of “owning” this treasure right there in my front yard.

The biggest problem with owning this watery delight occurred every spring when the runoff would give forth with stream surplus. The culvert that ran under the driveway would be taxed to the max and unable to handle the flow of water trying to escape the headwater swamp filled to capacity. It was during these times that it became a front yard river much to the consternation of my family who feared the return of Noah’s Ark.

It was during a relatively quiet spring that I noticed a sizable population of minnows swimming about in the pool that was directly below the culvert. Darting about in small groups these minnows struck me with a great idea. With a depth of about 4 feet this pool was large enough to hold a nice school of trout. There, right in my own front yard was my very own private fly fishing escape. After a hard day at the office, no hassle, no drive – Nervana, only 50 feet from my backdoor.

A source was located for my private school of trout, six Rainbows, six Brookies – a perfect dozen and all about 8 inches long. Life held promise for great things as I carefully acclimated my trout into their new world and watched in fascination as they adjusted to their home. For the first week I let them settle in and didn’t bother them except to check on their well being as they swam about in the clear water of the pool. I did a head count every night to see if any of them had exercised the option of escape but it was very unlikely. The pool being large and deep enough gave them an un-crowded place to live while providing a plentiful insect and minnow food source to keep them happy. Soon it would be time to introduce them to the object of my master plan. Catch and release fishing fun.

Finally the big moment arrived and with a barbless fly tied to my tippet I made my first cast into my private lair and yelped with delight at the smashing take of one of the Rainbows. Playing him carefully to the edge of the pool I gently removed the hook and watched him swim away relatively unscathed. The splashing and jumping of the first trout to come forth from this private honey hole put the other fish on their guard and no one else would bite despite my repeated casts to tempt them.

The course of that first month led me to become a homebody, my outdoor world became a study in watching my trout and the environment in which they lived and so far prospered. All was right – right there in my front yard ! The change came about gradually as I first noticed that a couple of “my” trout were missing, no longer part of the trout family that called the pool home. An escape must’ve been engineered and I was down a few trout. Not to worry though – the others seemed content and even played my catch and release game with a new sense of enjoyment.

A few nights later though I once again noticed that the group seemed smaller than the night before. Checking the outlet from the pool there didn’t seem to be enough depth to the runoff to allow an escape but undeniably there was a downsize to the trout population. I was slightly puzzled by this turn of events but counted my fortune in having any trout at all within my private preserve. Rod in hand I made a fair effort at provoking some action out of the pool’s residence but no one was playing the game tonight.

The next night there was only three trout swimming about in the clear water and I was really troubled by this major turn of events within my stream. My first thought was a Mink or an Otter had discovered my honey hole but there didn’t seem to be any footprints or fish parts to indicate this ending to nine of my trout.

In the early hours of the next day I went down to the stream at daylight to see if I could surprise my trout bandit in the act but alas peace and quiet reigned at dawn. There were only two trout left though, one had disappeared overnight. Not a good sign to say the very least.

Darkness that night found me skulking out to my stream with powerful porta-beam in hand determined to get to the bottom of this mystery of the disappearing trout. Approaching the pool carefully I switched on the powerful beam of light and shone it down into the water. There caught in the illumination were my remaining two trout swimming warily about side by side. I ran the beam all around the side of the pool and back into the water but beside the two trout there was nothing moving about. Finally I flashed the light up into the culvert expecting the raider of the pool to be hiding out in there …. Nothing ! As I swept the light out of the culvert pipe itself though I noticed a large worm caught in the beam. A wiggling worm – worms don’t eat trout (?) !

What was attached to that “worm” did, though. There in the focused light from my flashlight was the phantom gourmet of my private preserve. An extremely large snapping turtle, with an appendage on his tongue that resemble a worm when he wiggled it as a lure. Unsuspecting fish swam in to investigate an easy meal only to become one themselves. I must say that despite my regard for this ingenious piece of work on Mother Nature’s part, I was forced to take drastic measure and capture Mr. Snapper and move him miles away into another swamp where he can live out his days without me paying firsthand for his fare.

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