We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
On the weekend before trout season opens, our hunting and fishing club Chairman, the Fishing Chairman, and our manager perform the annual ritual of walking the length of our stream checking the beats, the conditions of the pools and of the paths, and generally making sure that things are up to snuff. We have a mile of this stream in CT, with some larger ponds and beaver marshes in it.
This was Friday, on a narrow section of the stream -
Agree it's a crick - actually the top quarter-mle of the headwaters to a tributary of the Connecticut River (for which you probably don't have a term - see photos at http://maggiesfarm.anotherdotcom.com/archives/8217-A-Connecticut-April-Show-and-Tell.html - as it makes most "rivers" look like cricks).
Typical of Eastern flat-land streams, it's cold into July, and then the fish move downstream. What the photos don't show is that those little black holes are 4'-6' deep, and so are usually fished with a weighted wet fly. Nothing like our (native) Western mountains, but, hey, it's fishing!