Sasquatch & the Spectacularly Sneaky Trout

When Sasquatch hits the Snake River, it’s not just fishing; it’s folklore in motion. Decked out in his lucky floppy hat and bug-net chic, he’s reeling in more than just trout… he’s casting a whole vibe.

Every summertime, as the solstice approaches, just as the moon twirls a pirouette over the pines, Sasquatch lumbers down from the Whispering Willows of Owyhee to the Snake River (Idaho) for his annual fishing trip. But this year, something was different.

He wore his lucky floppy hat (complete with a mosquito net and a feather from a very cooperative bluebird), carried a tackle box that once belonged to Paul Bunyan’s goldfish, and brought his fishing buddy, a chatty magpie named Picklebeak who considered herself a culinary critic of worms.

But the Snake River had other plans.

As Sasquatch cast his line (which was actually an enchanted jump rope), the trout performed synchronized evasive maneuvers. These weren’t ordinary fish. No, these were the Legendary Trickster Trout of the Snake, which are known to leap, pirouette, and blow raspberries midair before plopping back in with a splashy taunt.

Picklebeak squawked, “You gotta use bait with pizzazz, maybe a glow-in-the-dark gummy worm?”

Determined, Sasquatch tried lures shaped like disco balls, cupcakes, and once, accidentally, his left boot. Still, nothing.

Then, inspiration struck like lightning in a Jell-O mold. Sasquatch pulled out his secret weapon: a kazoo. As the notes wobbled across the riverbank, the trout paused mid-leap, hypnotized by the strange melody.

With a splash, one particularly theatrical trout, a fish named Tater, launched himself into Sasquatch’s arms, requesting an encore.

They didn’t fish much after that. Instead, Sasquatch and Tater trout formed a jazz-folk fusion band that now tours the river. Picklebeak, meanwhile, contemplates managing their social media.

And if you wander down by the Snake on a full moon, you might just hear the haunting notes of a kazoo duet echoing across the mist ~ proof that sometimes, the best catches aren’t the fish you fry, but the friends you didn’t see coming.