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.
That could just as well be a quieter stretch of a SNP stream in Virginia--an address where only Brookies are welcome.
It is not just the size of the trout in the fight; it can be all about how ferociously they attack a dry fly, or just that they are wild and live in wonderful places.
Looks very much like the "river" that passed by my childhood home. Before my parents had a deep well dug, our old well would sometimes run dry or close to dry, which would result in our using the "river" for bathing.
Walking on the shores of such "rivers" in the night time was fun. Ditto riding inner tubes on the "river" after heavy rains.
I grew up in Upper Michigan and brookies were the rule. Now I live in Colorado and if you are willing to put in the work you can fish brookies. Same goes for Montana and Wyoming.