Earlier in the week, a huge hemlock on the bank of a spring-fed brook east of Augusta hid me from small brook trout that lurked under rocks and behind fallen branches on the silt bottom. This woodland water has drawn me each spring since I was 7 years old, when my father showed me how to hide behind that very same tree É talk about tradition.

This past week, unseasonably warm, I had carefully crawled to the ancient trunk of the slow-growing species, all of 300 to 400 years old, and decided to rest the pool for a few minutes before casting a size 12 Hare's Ear with a 6-foot, 4-weight fly rod -- the right tool for such a diminutive setting.

Three T.S. Eliot verses were bouncing around my mind as I waited:

"And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time."

What appropriate lines for someone like me who has had the amazing good fortune to fish the same waters for a lifetime with all the re-exploring that this sport entails. And Eliot's last line proved prophetic that day.

The first cast quartered across and downstream, so the Hare's Ear swung in a tight arc like an aquatic insect holding steadily against the current. At the end of the swing, a 10-inch brookie hit the fly, shocking me.

The trout proved to be the largest brookie that this brook has ever given me -- the prophetic part. "And know the place for the first time." In past decades, a 7-incher would be a "trophy," so a 10-incher was a monster. I released it and know that I'll catch it more than once this spring.

As Al what's-his-name said, everything is relative. In the miniature setting with an equally miniature rod, the brookie put up quite a thrash, words from a man who has caught giant tarpon and sharks on a fly rod.

The recent, high-water years have insured all these little brooks have lots of trout, and the cool, abundant habitat had grown a 10-inch brookie where none should exist. That's saying something, and it's all there this week as these brooks peak for anyone who has the patience and stalking skills to sneak up on their knees or even belly to cast.

How do you find these brooks? Here's a wicked hot tip. Call DIF&W at 207-287-8000 and ask the PR person which fisheries biologist to contact for your region. Biologists electro-fish small waters across your region, which keeps them on top of the hot spots. These folks seldom steer me wrong in finding trout and bass. They're more than willing to share and may add one more tidbit of advice. Bring plenty of bug dope this week.

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In the next eight weeks, Pierce Pond and surrounding ponds northwest of Bingham should offer superb brookie action. Pierce, an ALO water to insure fishing quality, just may be one of the best five brookie waters in the state, and it also has salmon to sweeten the allure. To get there from Waterville or Augusta, it takes approximately two hours -- a day trip.

Check DeLorme's The Maine Atlas and Gazetteer, Map 30, A-1 and A-2. One hand-carry boat launch lies at Otter Pond Cove and requires traversing an intricate network of gravel roads from Bingham. The maps book makes the maze easier to negotiate.

The Lindsay Cove access begins off the Long Falls Dam Road on Map 30, B-1, where users must pay a fee to use the private road. The Lindsay Cove boat launch accommodates boat trailers, though.

Smelt-imitating flies and lures and Compara-Duns and Compara-Caddises can fool these picky Pierce brookies. In early July, make sure to have Hex dun and larvae imitations on size 6, 2x to 4x long hooks.

Two sporting camps and close proximity to such cities as Waterville, Augusta and Lewiston insure crowds here, so newcomers can see where anglers congregate, exposing the honey holes.

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Speaking of Pierce Pond ... how low can folks sink to get solid fishing info? An anecdote about Pierce shows it can be gutter low.

A few years ago, a writer wanted to sell a where-to article about Pierce Pond and surrounding waters to a national fly-fishing magazine, but he needed a list of hatch dates in a sidebar to complete the piece.

In a moment of inspiration, a plan formed that included a fictitious woman named "Jill." Jill posted a note on an Internet fly-fishing board and claimed that she and a lady friend -- both recently divorced school teachers in their 30s -- would be spending the summer in a cottage an hour's drive from Pierce Pond. Jill asked if anyone could tell her what to expect for aquatic-insect hatches so she would know what flies to buy.

Not many people would fall for such a ruse, but a nefarious touch insured the story had a touch of verisimilitude. Jill warned readers that neither she nor her friend was interested in dating after their messy divorces. Because of the intimation of no sexual liaison, people would be more apt to believe Jill was real and simply wanted hatch information. Not surprising, the admonition against dating attracted even more suitors, who hinted they were the right medicine for a broken heart.

Coincidentally, I knew one of the moonstruck fly rodders, who fell head over heels for Jill as the two corresponded. I read the private e-mails, and old Moonie wrote veiled but passionate words, explaining how they appeared to be soul mates, meant for one another, etc. His lines were right out of a grade B movie.

Despite the fun and games, no one who responded had solid hatch info, so other than laughs, the ploy failed. However, if an angler with a sexy sounding alias like Margo hooked up with a fly rodder with hatch schedules, such a plan does have possibilities as the bogus love affair heats up.

Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, is a writer, editor and photographer. E-mail: kallyn800@aol.com