We have had a good bit of rain over the past several weeks. The Susquehanna Rver and most streams are flowing strong.

A high flow on the river is not good for the smallmouth spawn. According to one of the river biologists I talked to, a low, stable flow produces a better spawn. So far the river has not been too wild, so we are hoping for a decent spawn this year.

Last weekend my wife and I were able to break away for a little road trip up to Potter County. It is beautiful up there now, with a lush landscape far different from the frozen tundra I’m used to seeing in muzzleloader season.

The streams are clear and inviting. We did a little bit of fishing, without much luck. Those large flies — I think they are the ones that are put out to combat the gypsy moths — were a real pain in the neck. They don’t bite, but they land all over you and are a bother. We stopped off at Big Pine Creek on the way home and made a few casts. It looked good, but our brief attempt yielded no fish.

On the trip back, I checked out a couple other streams. At one point we turned around to head back to the main road, and spotted a whitetail fawn standing on a path in the woods. The mother stepped into the path along with another spotted fawn. They walked down the path and disappeared around a turn. I grabbed the camera and slipped down to the turn in the path to try to get a picture. What happened next was quite amazing.

As I crept around the curve in the path, I spotted the fawns about 20 yards away. I got down on one knee and started snapping pictures. The fawns just stood there looking around, then turned and started walking up the path toward me. I kept snapping pictures until the little deer filled up the viewfinder. Then it hit me: these deer are close.

I slowly lowered the camera, and the pair of spotted fawns stood on wobbly legs only a few feet from me. They looked around for a while, then turned and walked back down the path. After they disappeared, I slipped out of there as quietly as I could. It was an exhilarating experience.

On Monday afternoon I joined Penns Creek veteran Bob Evans at his camp on Penns Creek for a try at the drake hatch. On our way to the stream, we saw a nice young black bear who wasted little time in putting distance between us. A little further up the road, a turkey hen with a dozen or so little ones stood on the road. She took her brood over the bank, and we pulled up to her and got a good look at them. They were about six inches tall and were getting around well already. The hen took them away from the road with some cautious clucks.

We saw a couple of adult deer before we made it to the stream. The drake hatch can be frustrating, and that evening was a case in point. There were about half a dozen different flies hatching, and no fish rising. We started with nymphs, wets, and emergers to no avail. As the sun set, trout started rising and we did manage a couple of brown trout, but we really never figured them out.

By the time the moonlight hit the water, it was over. We slogged out of there, just as happy as if we had caught a bunch. There is an amazing amount of insect life in Penns Creek, and we agreed that the one thing we didn’t need was those little biting critters they call no-see-ums. You can’t see-um, but you can sure feel-um.

I slept like a baby that night. Fresh air and exercise will do that for you.

-- Ken Maurer, Herndon, is a licensed fishing guide and a regular contributor to the Outdoors section.