The East Branch of the Croton River holds for me fond memories. It is where I first wet my waders, tangled my line and caught my very first trout. It is also the place where I had my first glimpse of real wildlife, and I'm not talking about squirrels and sparrows. I fished its banks alongside the almost primordial great blue heron, shared its waters with the whitetail, saw my son, then just a child, compete with the Waxwings that where trying to grab the fly at the end of his line. That first year I began my education of the East Branch learning each pool and bend. Ultimately, I learned to love it.