Not just any fish...

Their bellies are soft and tender and the color of a cloud reflecting the last rays of the setting sun or, perhaps, the hottest embers of the camp fire. The flame orange merges into a shade of olive green that matches the moss which mats the floor of the stream.

At the side of the fish where the colors merge, the change is not abrupt but slow and steady like the coming of night as it is interrupted by a rainbow of light and shadow. Where this change takes place, your eyes are taunted by colors that tease your mind's eye. Such colors on something so beautiful, it is one of those rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.

As your eyes slowly move upward, the beauty is magnified by small halos that are the color of the bluest sky when you are high in the mountains. Some of these rings of blue house a dot that is the color of a cloud of pink portending rain at daybreak. Higher on the side of the fish, the blue rings house specks of blood red. Others house spots the color of a perfectly cut and set amethyst.

The gill and jaw lines were drawn in black by an artist with a steady hand and an eye for beauty - they are, after all, His creation. Finally, the halos of blue break free and the yellow, that had once been so sharp on the underside fades as it begins to mix with the drab olive that hides this thing of beauty so well.

To ensure its presence fades with its background, the olive skin and the drab yellow that mark the fish's back are set up in irregular patterns reminiscent of some other predator or prey. Dull yellow stripes, in irregular patterns, set upon an olive drab background camouflage this master of the stream. My greatest hope is to see another one rise to the occasion and dance yet again on the end of my line.

Finally, to those who have never had the occasion to hold such a thing of beauty in your hand, I say: never miss an opportunity to see something that is beautiful; beauty is God's handwriting.

dp