Every year now, my boys and I try and take a week or so and wander around some great trout country. This year it was a few days in the backcountry of Idaho, and then on to the Bighorn and Missouri Rivers. As a Dad, it is really starting to get thrilling watching my boys turn in to fly anglers. I saw that evolution this year, one morning on the Missouri. The trout were rising in pods to the spinner fall of Trico's. There wasn't a breath of wind, the water was flat and slow, and the fish wouldn't move an inch out of their lane to take your fly. My eleven year old Greger was rowing our drift boat. My oldest son Teddy, with me watching from the back of the boat, laid out a sixty foot cast, did a reach mend in mid-air, and landed his fly on the nose of a Brown. The fish ate.......and I was one proud Dad.