Hudson:

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As if on cue, a small trout zooms out of the water, goes airborne for an instant, and then splashes back home.

“There’s one!” the children say almost in unison.

And then it’s like somebody flipped a switch. Within 30 seconds, the river becomes alive with jumping trout. Lots of attacking predators? Lots of emerging bugs? Or just lots and lots of subsurface happiness that can’t help but break through?

The aerobatics continue for a while, then gradually taper off.

“That was cool!” says the oldest, and the mom answers, “Yes, it was.”

For trout fishing enthusiasts, all of this is a signal to get out the fly rod.

But even if you’re not a flyfisher, it’s great fun to look for the jumping trout.

“And they looked so happy!” offers the little girl as the family turns to walk back to their car, leaving me alone on the platform once again.

The afternoon is warm, and the world is right, and I decide to linger a few more minutes. I look over the water one more time, and I see another trout jump into the air. Its eye catches mine – and I’d swear that trout gave me a wink.

Yes, the child is right. The trout does look happy, so happy that the feeling just has to come out, so happy that it just can’t be contained.

And you know what? That’s something I understand these days¬. I really do.