WRITING ON THE FLY
By GEORGE LISET

    There is comfort in things staying the same. Most people don’t enjoy change especially when the change takes them out of their comfort zone. There is security in things staying the same. The security that ensures that a person might have a semblance of control in their lives. My generation stayed in the same job for years, partly for that sense of security and partly out of loyalty. But times change and so do we.

    People like good changes like getting a raise or a job promotion, which nowadays doesn’t necessarily go hand in hand, or meeting Mr. or Mrs. Wonderful and getting married. We love new vehicles or new homes. Most anglers like new fly rods and reels and new fishing spots, but we don’t like to give up our old ones, especially the places that are like friends.

    I have lost a few of my favorite spots to development and “No Trespassing” signs. This is happening more and more as people are finding out about the benefits of the “Live Free or Die” state, particularly those who are anglers. However; I have yet to lose a spot for lack of money or interest, until now.

    My fishing buddy Ray came by the other day and during our conversation he asked me if I had heard about Mad Beaver Pond “My name for the pond.” I said I hadn’t. Then Ray informed me that the state of New Hampshire doesn’t want to fund the stocking and upkeep on the pond. The state then offered that function to the town and they refused as well. So apparently the powers to be are going to bulldoze the earthen dam and turn it back into a spring fed stream. When I heard that my heart sank. I felt like my best friend died.

      A flood of memories ran through my mind. Mad Beaver Pond was my go to pond. I could be there in ten minutes and get some casts in. I’d fish the pond from opening day until the end of the season in the fall. It is where I caught my first trout on a fly, and where my son caught his first trout. It’s where I took my  buddy Ray to catch his first trout. We’ll always have the memories but now we will not always have the pond.

     What I enjoyed most about Mad Beaver pond was the beauty and the solitude. The pond was not a secret but I rarely had to share it. The pond was small enough that my grandson could throw a rock from one side to another. Albeit he has a good arm. The pond was not an easy fish and that discouraged many anglers, but you could get a bite every once in a while.

     I enjoyed fishing in the pond in the evening. The setting sun enhanced the colors around the pond, particularly in the fall when the glorious colors reflected on the pond and had a kaleidoscope effect. One might have thought that they were in the middle of the White Mountains if they didn’t know better. I knew better but yet there were times I didn’t.

    I would love to go just to practice my casting which was necessary after a winter of drifting nymphs. I would bring a couple of different rod and reel combinations to figure out which combo worked best. It was also a great place to take friends that wanted to learn to fly fish, which over the years there were many of.

     I think what I will miss the most is my buddy the “Mad Beaver”. Mr. Beaver would be out and about in the evenings. I would always keep my eye out for him, and yet he had a way of sneaking up on me and slapping his tail and scaring the daylights out of me. I wonder what he is going to think of the change, I’m sure he’ll miss me. What’s he going to do for entertainment now?

     I’ll head over to the pond before they tear it down and take some pictures so I can show my grandkids where “Pops” and Uncle Reed caught their first trout. Maybe Mr. Beaver will dam up the river and make a home for the few left over trout and make it a place to take my grandkids. Nature has a way of fixing itself. Let’s hope.

 George Liset of Dover is an award-winning outdoor writer and avid fly fisherman who shares insights of his time on the water exploring New Hampshire streams and rivers as well of those around New England. George is a graduate of Wheaton College, Illinois, and the University of New Hampshire. His column Writing on the Fly has been honored by the New England Press Association and the New Hampshire Press Association.