River log: Being there when it happens

River log: Being there when it happens

I was once in a river when a tree fell — or a large part of a tree, at least. It was one of those quiet spring afternoons on the Big Gunpowder Falls in Baltimore County. I was fishing alone, standing in grass on a bank, tying a new fly to my leader. The only sound was the mesmerizingly monotonous rush of water, and birdsong. I would not dare say what birds were singing that day. But the usual suspects out there are vireo, sparrow, wren, flycatch…