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\ s i 'OP T¿rrC~- (¦**- /¦ S. ^ •s \ / i-- ^ V ^ i % ^^^--^^^^-^^f^K \ w 7VJi Mi«5· sip*87 f i V S Fall Trout When dead leaves clot every pool and slow ran, the big trout move. Dark backed, flanks flecked bloodred, they fin swollen bodies up creeks too shallow to conceal. In the river they were immortal, through braising April floods, the clear, warm water of August. Instinct that protected now betrays, will strike the streamer from a deeper urge than hunger, and find no root-filled, undercut bank, no line-fraying rock ledge in their final, diminished world. -Ron Rash 70 ...