At last light of an outstanding evening on the river, I pulled the line in to switch to an easier fly to see. I had the leader through my fingers, the fly hanging a couple feet below. I felt the familiar pull of a small Forks fish, then I realize it was pulling out, then up... then it came at my face. So, I did what I think most would do... I screamed and dropped my rod and fly box. I quickly picked the rod back up and the little guy kept flying around till he tuckered out a couple minutes into the fight. I was close to the house so I brought him back, had my wife grab me a glove and removed the fly. He then took off like a bat out of hell.