by Pteronarcys california

It's getting dark now so I'm going for it. Through crawling along the bottom of this dark and dreary river, I'm headed for shore, across this riffle, bringing my wings and wishes with me.

I've been here for two years, ya know, "foraging," as they say, on tiny plant matter and other goodies. I wish I was tougher. Or could swim, at least. But I suck at swimming and am therefore only a strong current away from get pulled off these rocks and sent tumbling like Papa across some piscatorial buffet line. I've got a cousin though, Acroneuria californica, or some ridiculous name - I think you call him a Golden Stone - he's carnivorous. Did you know that? Ya, he's what they call predacious. Would eat his own young if given the chance. Kinda like a shark. Even gobbles small fish fry. Did you catch that last part? He's a fly. That eats fish. I'd like to see one of those Diptera Dorks pull that off. Then again, what can you expect from any fly who occupies a branch on the mosquito family tree?

Portrait of a Passionate Trio

Tom Montgomery and John Simms, surveying the
South American goods. The Lake District, Patagonia.
-Paul Bruun

Three, is the magic number -- Blind Melon

On a fishing trip, or a road journey of any kind, really, three people offers the perfect mix. One to drive, one to handle tunes and navigate, and one to sit in back and pass important items up front when necessary.