Field Notes
Observations from the water, the woods, and the seasons that shape life in Vermont. Field Notes is where we share stories from the river, insights from the field, and reflections on the rhythms of this place we’re lucky to call home. Whether it’s a report, a photo, or a moment worth remembering, this is where it lives.
When Everything Comes Together
A spring evening on the Battenkill during the Hendrickson hatch, with one of those rare moments when the river gives you a chance.
When Everything Comes Together
This past week was one of the most memorable weeks I have spent on the Battenkill.
The week started with warm weather, and with it came another incredible Hendrickson spinner fall. Clouds of spinners gathered over the river as the evening light settled in, and the setting sun seemed to illuminate the whole thing. It was one of those moments where the bugs almost stole the show.
Even with all of that life in the air, rising fish were still hard to come by. That has been the theme through much of this Hendrickson season. The bugs have been there. The conditions have felt right. And more often than not, the Battenkill has still made us work for every opportunity.
On Tuesday evening, I set out with my good friend Doug Lyons, who has spent as much time on this river as anybody I know. Over the past few weeks, both of us have been hunting rising fish day and night, often staring at beautiful water, watching bugs in the air, and seeing very little activity on the surface. That is part of it, and that’s the Battenkill.
That night, I posted up on a piece of water that just felt right. It had the flow, the structure, the right pace, and that hard to explain feeling that fish should be there. Not long after Doug met me, we spotted a fish rising tight to the bank, tucked under low-hanging branches.
Of course, he was not in an easy place.
There was a window, though. A narrow one. I could see it. The fish was tight to the bank, protected by the branches, but there was just enough room to get a fly in there if everything went right. I had been watching that spot, and when the fish showed himself, it was my turn.
There was no way around it. I was going to have to make a long, low cast under the branches, with enough control to land the fly softly and not put the fish down. The back cast had to fit through its own window. The forward cast had to thread through another. It was the kind of cast that, more often than not, does not come together.
But I looked at it and thought, I can do this.
After a few tries, I finally made the exact cast I had pictured. The fly shot through the opening, slipped under the low branches, landed softly, and drifted for a moment.
Then came the most subtle sip.
You can barely even see it in the video. Just a small break in the surface. But I lifted, and I was on.
I knew right away it was a good brown trout. A large one. And almost as quickly, I started to wonder if this was going to be another one of those Battenkill battles that ended with a broken tippet, a bad turn, or a fish disappearing into the kind of place you cannot follow.
That happens on this river. These fish are big for a reason. They know the brush. They know the fast water. They know exactly where to go. And when you are fishing 5X, you are fighting the river as much as you are fighting the fish.
There really is not much to do in that moment except stay connected and let the fish do what it wants to do.
Eventually, Doug realized I was on and came rushing over, but I was out in the middle of the river and knew I had to finish it myself. The fish stayed heavy and strong, and for a while, it felt like anything could happen. I finally worked him above me, lifted just enough, slid the net underneath, and there he was.
A 22-inch wild Battenkill brown trout.
My personal best brown.
On one of the most beautiful evenings I have ever seen on the river, with a good friend there to share it.
That is what it is all about.
So much has to come together. In fact, everything has to come together. The bugs, the light, the river, the fish, the cast, the drift, the hook set, the fight, and a little bit of luck. And when it does, when you finally get to admire one of these fish up close, it is hard to describe.
It is not just about catching the fish. It is the time spent looking. The nights when nothing happens. The conversations on the bank. The shared obsession with a river that gives just enough to keep you coming back.
I would have gotten just as much joy watching Doug catch that fish as I did catching it myself. Maybe more, honestly, because fighting that fish was about as nerve-wracking as it gets.
But this time, everything held.
Thank you to the Battenkill. Thank you to that brown trout. And thank you to the friends who understand how much these moments mean.
Cheers to an incredible Hendrickson season.
When the Hendricksons Fall
A guide has to fish in order to be a good guide.
On a memorable evening during a heavy Hendrickson spinner fall, everything finally came together on the Battenkill with a beautiful wild brook trout in the net.
As a fishing guide, I spend a lot of time helping other anglers find their moments on the water. But it is just as important for me to keep fishing, too. To stay connected to the river, to keep learning, and to remember what it feels like to be on the other side of the cast.
Earlier this week, I had an opening in my schedule and decided to take advantage of it. The Battenkill had been setting up beautifully. Air temperatures were right, water temperatures were right, and the previous evening I had witnessed one of the heaviest Hendrickson spinner falls I have seen in a long time. There were so many mayflies in the air that it became one of those rare moments you know you will remember.
But, in true Battenkill fashion, the river did not give itself away.
The bugs were there. The light was right. The conditions felt nearly perfect. And still, there were not many fish rising. That is one of the great lessons of this river. Everything can look exactly the way you hope it will, and the trout may still refuse to play their part.
The next evening, I decided to try again. I loaded my canoe, brought my four-weight, and paddled into a stretch of gentle water where I could quietly get into position. As the evening settled in, the Hendrickson spinners began to gather again, lifting and dropping in soft clouds over the river. Before long, fish started to rise.
I began with a spinner pattern, a size 16 mahogany parachute, and made a few clean drifts over a rising fish. The presentation looked good, but the fish would not take. That is often the moment where the Battenkill reminds you not to assume too much. I changed flies, tied on another spinner pattern, and sent the first drift back over the same fish.
This time, he ate.
After a short fight, I brought a beautiful 12-inch wild brook trout to the net, my first brook trout of the season. Perfectly marked, healthy, and wild, it was one of those fish that stays with you long after the release. I landed a couple more brook trout that evening before calling it a night.
Later, I heard reports from other anglers who had also found success, including some very sizeable brown trout caught during the same window. The river had turned on. And the funny thing is, there was not much that seemed different from the night before, when the bugs were there but the fish were not.
That is the Battenkill.
Everything can come together and nothing happens. Everything can come together and it becomes a night you will never forget. No one really knows exactly what will unfold out there, and that is what keeps us coming back. We return to piece together the puzzle, to read the water, watch the bugs, make the cast, adjust the fly, and wait for skill, experience, and patience to finally meet the right moment.
When it does, there is a kind of relief in it. For me, after that fish, I felt like I could sleep that night.
That constant chase, the uncertainty, the patience, the rare reward, is what makes the Battenkill the Battenkill.
2025 Season Recap
The 2025 season on the Battenkill was dynamic, challenging, and deeply rewarding. From high spring flows to a long, low-water summer and a spectacular fall, the river reminded us that no two days are ever the same. Each step into the Battenkill asks us to slow down, adapt, and be fully present on the water.
The 2025 season on the Battenkill was dynamic, challenging, and deeply rewarding. In many ways, it was a reminder of exactly why this river continues to teach us year after year.
Spring arrived with heavy rain and sustained high water. Flows were up, conditions were demanding, and the river asked more of us from the very beginning. We adjusted, slowed down, found the soft water, and learned the Battenkill again under high cfs. Those early days reinforced an important truth: the river always provides if you listen closely enough.
Then came the long summer and the drought. Low water stretched on for months, calling for careful movement, quiet feet, and thoughtful presentations. We learned to be ninjas in the water, a skill that serves you well on the Battenkill in any season. The river sharpened our awareness and rewarded patience.
Fall arrived in spectacular fashion. Color returned to the valley, and so did the fishing. Blue Winged Olives brought moments of classic Battenkill magic, the kind that stops you mid-cast and reminds you how fortunate you are to be standing where you are.
The Battenkill never disappoints. It challenges us, humbles us, and reminds us that no two days are ever the same. Each step into the river feels like returning to the drawing board, and that is exactly what makes this place and this sport so special.
The river asks you to be present. Fully present. Whether it is a kingfisher blasting upstream, a subtle rise caught out of the corner of your eye, or the simple rhythm of water moving through the valley, these are the moments that matter. These are the moments we believe everyone is ultimately searching for.
We are deeply grateful to have shared so many days on the water with you throughout the 2025 season. Thank you for trusting us, fishing alongside us, and becoming part of this story.
We look forward to seeing you again in 2026.
Introducing Margie Kaat
Introducing Margie Kaat: The Newest Member of the Battenkill Outfitters Guide Team
I met Margie Kaat last June while producing a video for the American Museum of Fly Fishing. From the moment we started filming, her energy, focus, and love for fly fishing were unmistakable. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone could match my own enthusiasm for this sport, but then I met Margie.
A Vermont native and lifelong athlete, Margie grew up fishing local streams and ponds with her dad and a spinning rod long before discovering fly fishing. After moving to Manchester with her husband, Baseball Hall of Famer Jim Kaat, she enrolled in the Orvis Fly Fishing School and fully immersed herself in the craft. Since then, she’s trained with some of the best instructors in the world, including the legendary Joan Wulff, and it shows.
Margie now spends nearly every day on the water, exploring the rivers and small streams of Southern Vermont with the kind of focus and curiosity that sets great anglers apart. She’s developed a particular mastery of Euro nymphing techniques and is just as passionate about entomology, river ecology, and fish behavior as she is about putting clients on fish.
As a guide, Margie is patient, observant, and tuned in to the needs of the anglers she works with. She has a gift for instruction and especially enjoys helping beginners build confidence and connection through thoughtful, hands-on learning. That said, experienced anglers will find just as much to gain from a day on the water with Margie. Her technical skills and strategic approach offer plenty of depth for those looking to refine their craft.
Margie also serves as a trustee of the American Museum of Fly Fishing and contributes to their acquisitions team, reflecting her deep commitment to the sport and its history. Around town and on the water, she’s earned the nickname “Troutlady”—and if you’ve had the pleasure of fishing with her, you know exactly why.
We couldn’t be more excited to welcome Margie to the Battenkill Outfitters family. She’s an exceptional angler, an inspiring teacher, and a true steward of the sport.
Planting with Purpose: A Community Conservation Effort on the Battenkill
A look back at our community tree planting event on the Battenkill—where volunteers, partners, and friends came together to restore vital riverbank habitat and close out the Battenkill Fly Fishing Festival with purpose.
On the final day of the 4th annual Battenkill Fly Fishing Festival, Battenkill Outfiitter’s gathered with volunteers, conservation partners, and community members for a special event rooted in stewardship: a riparian tree planting on the banks of the Battenkill. Held at our Battenkill Hollow Cottage property—three acres of riverside land in West Arlington—this effort aimed to restore and protect the vital habitat along the river’s edge.
Led by the Battenkill Watershed Alliance, Trout Unlimited staff, and the Southwestern Vermont TU Chapter, this hands-on planting was more than just a day in the dirt. It was a collective investment in the long-term health of the river and the wild trout that depend on its cool, shaded waters. Volunteers came ready to dig, learn, and connect—helping to plant the seeds of future resilience along the riverbank.
We’re incredibly grateful to everyone who made this possible—especially Jim Henderson, the dedicated teams from the Southwest and Northeast Chapters of Trout Unlimited, and all those who lent their time and energy. With shovels in hand and boots in the mud, you helped turn a morning of work into a lasting legacy for the Battenkill.
Thank you for closing out the festival with us in the spirit of conservation, connection, and care for the waters we love.
Learn more about our involvement in conservation at battenkilloutfitters.com/conservation.
Season Opener On the Battekill
After a long, true Vermont winter, the Battenkill is open once again. With spring comes fresh anticipation—questions about the season ahead, the first signs of the Hendrickson hatch, and a deep appreciation for the changing rhythms of life on the river.
The 2025 season is officially underway. Opening weekend on the Vermont section of the Battenkill has come and gone, and with it, the first signs of spring are beginning to take hold. Winter held on this year—and we’re glad it did. We saw a true Vermont winter: steady snowfall, cold temps, and a landscape that kept its white coat deep into March. It made for some beautiful moments on the river.
One of my favorites moments was a bluebird day after a heavy snow, the Battenkill draped in white and glowing in that low, bright winter light. It reminded me just how lucky we are to live here.
Life in Vermont moves with the seasons. You feel them coming—sometimes subtly, sometimes all at once—and right when you’re ready for the next, there it is. That shift brings excitement, anticipation, and a fresh start. This time, it’s spring.
Last season brought hot days and low water. Now, after a proper winter, we’re all watching to see how the river responds. Will it be a strong year for bugs? Will the trout be feeding hard? There’s plenty of speculation, and that’s part of the fun. The truth is, no one really knows. And that’s what keeps it interesting.
Red Quill - Male Hendrickson Imitation
First up: the Hendricksons.
The Hendrickson hatch is one of the most anticipated events of our season—a true marker of spring on the Battenkill. They typically begin to emerge in late April and run into early May depending on water temps, and they’re one of the first major hatches to bring big fish consistently to the surface. As one of the largest mayflies we see all year, they bring big browns to the surface in a way that makes every cast count. It's arguably the best time to target these rising fish, and for many of us, it's the hatch that sets the tone for the rest of the year.
Living on the river, we’re keeping a close eye on the water every day. Watching, waiting. It's a funny thing—after months of dormancy, both fish and angler are shaking off the rust. The real challenge with fishing the Hendrickson hatch isn't just technical. It's emotional. You've been watching a fish feed for days, waiting for the timing, the angle, the right fly... and now you’re finally in position. But you're buzzing with excitement just to be back in your waders. The stakes are high, the bugs are coming off, and you’ve got one shot to make it happen.
When it all comes together—when your cast lands just right, the drift is true, and that brown rises—it’s pure magic. And when it doesn’t, or when you blow it entirely, well… that’s part of the magic too. It keeps you honest. It keeps you coming back.
The look when it comes together.
No matter how the season unfolds, we’re grateful to be here. Grateful to guide folks into the outdoors, away from the noise and into the moment. Fishing or not, there’s a lot to learn from time spent on the river. We're excited to share it with you.
See you out there.
— Andrew
Battenkill Outfitters