glimpsing the ox

In the Oxherder's tale--a zen story told in 10 acts--the aspirant embarks upon a journey to capture the ox. In the first scene, the aspirant is 'seeking the ox'. (Notice the waterfall)

Here we have 'Seeing the traces', the second scene. I will not dispute the fact that he 'saw the traces', but I might add that he might just as easily have 'smelt the beast'. Thats how it was for me, anyway, today in the river. I smelt them--like a salty breeze in from the ocean. I knew they were here by their bouquet--gifting the river with the aroma of sex. And with that I saw traces...mud plumes in the tea colored flow. Yes, she had been here, finning in the shallows moments before. A mad dash upon seeing my boots coming over the gravels, into the deep flows she withdrew herself.

'Glimpsing the ox'. As I waded deeper into the flow, plumbing the depths, the trace of mud lingered and disappeared. Hefting the light summer line, the reverse single spey releasing line out and across, quartering down the river. One step at a time, I walked it out. No lead, no sink tip, just 10 feet of leader at the end of the floating tip, drifting the marabou spey down and across. Walking out into the deepest part of the hole, in the fading dusk, the unmistakable dark form of the salmon holding steady in the current. For a moment I glimpsed her levitating there and then she was gone--or, rather, I retreated. Ashamed and surpised by what I'd seen. It was that obvious. The dark pool swallowed her form.