Finding Native Brook Trout

Where: Muskrat run, Eagle Rock Pa

When: Afternoon noon-2 pm

                A tiny tributary of the Allegheny River, Muskrat run is home to what I like to think as the ‘elusive’ native brook trout. I call them elusive, because i’ve only ever seen one native brook trout in my life (also from muskrat run), and I’ve heard a million stories about these fish from relatives. Now, if like me you’ve seen this creek, you’d be skeptical as well. In the few times I’ve walked it, I can jump from one side to the other with ease it’s that small. Look for it on Google earth, and you’ll never see it. Granted, there are a few ‘holes’ that would come up to above my knees, but these areas are still very small.

                Now, the stories I’ve heard about this stream are something of legend in my family. I say this because my grandparents have lived near it since…well forever. My grandparent’s will tell me stories of them fishing it when they were my age (roughly 40 years ago) and catching native’s. My grandpa will tell me of one of his ‘friends’ that would catch 8 brook trout from this stream, with the smallest being 13 inches. He’s also told me (as well as others in my family) about beaver dam’s, which I have yet to see. I usually laugh these stories off and call bullshit. Why? Because as I’ve said, this stream is TINY.

This is one of the widest spots i found

My dad has taken me to this stream when I was in high school, we walked maybe 100 yards downstream from the path, and sure as shit he catches one in a pool smaller and shallower than an average bathtub. He told me the trick was to sneak up on the stream, don’t you dare cast any shadows on the hole, and let your worm float under the roots. First cast, he had a native brook the size of my hand…. Safe to say I was baffled. We only caught one that day, but it was enough for me to tell my friend and fellow fisherman about this tiny stream, tiny native, and my grandpa’s tale’s of 15 inchers. Two days later, we spent the entire day fishing this little stream without a single hit (although we did see a few fingerlings).

                So five years later, and here I am, searching once again for these ‘elusive’ brook trout. Determined to not only catch one, but not follow the same path my dad took me (that my friend and I followed to no avail). So this time, I went upstream instead of down (also hoping to find a beaver dam). It didn’t take me long to realize that my favorite fishing flops were not a smart choice. I was walking through high grass aka snake territory as I like to call it, jumping the creek multiple times, and climbing across old oil pipes. Searching for small holes didn’t take me too long, but the first three I tried were either fishless, I spooked them, or I was just too impatient (I’d guess the 1^st or 2^nd option).

The first trout's lair

But finally, I came upon a hole that looked deep enough, and dug far enough into the bank that it could hide a trout. Sure enough, first cast I throw it at the mouth of the hole, and bang a tiny brookie takes my worm (there was also two more that came out of the hole same time). Naturally it darts right underneath a log and snags itself. I unsnag it, and I might have started jumping around like a 10 year old. I just caught my first native brook trout. After I snapped a few pictures, unhooked it, and let it rejuvenate in the water, it swam off on its own accord.

The first Native Brook Trout

Wormless, I continue upstream hoping to find more bait as I go. After a half hour walk, across the stream a few times, through some more snake territory, and barely avoiding the biggest spider I’ve ever seen this side of the mason Dixon, I came to the next hole. This hole, was easily the biggest I’d seen so far. It was probably 10 feet long, not wide enough to jump, and right at the base of a tree it was 3 feet deep and dug fairly deep into the tree roots. I’m thinking jackpot, then I realize I still hadn’t found a worm. I drop all my equipment, and start flipping rocks with no luck. Finally after about 15 minutes, I say piss on it, and try a tiny salamander I’d found (which my dad told me later that day, they love apparently).

Three casts later, bang, another fish on. This one I could tell when it hit was bigger, and when I reeled it in (aka three or four turns) I was literally stunned. This brookie was at least 9 inches, 11 max. (My hand, from wrist to middle fingertip is 8 inches on the button). The color was not as pretty as the smaller one I’d caught earlier, but the size was what got me. It was bigger than anything I’d expected to ever see in this tiny stream, and it has me thinking that there could possibly be larger fish deeper upstream. It swallowed the hook, so I had to bite the line off, and after a little rejuvenating in my hand he swam fine back into his hole.

The second Brook trout

Unfortunately, that was my last hook small enough to fish these guys, so my day was done. Not wanted to continue upstream and find more holes to NOT fish, I turned back and went home. Overall, I call this fishing trip a success. I caught the legendary muskrat run native, and maybe… just maybe my grandpa wasn’t bullshitting me about the 15 inchers near the beaver dams. Hopefully I find out next week, when i go back with the same friend that came during my first trip to Muskrat Run.