Mouse fishing goes like a fly shop full of hyperbole and big fish easy to catch. If you're willing to just show up and stay out on the water 'till well past 2 am and deal with the darkness and quiet and tangled lines and silt and muskrat holes and a morning wondering why you stayed up until sunrise without even a sense there was a carnivorous trout within range of your awkward cast, then all of a sudden you're beyond the talk and there you are alone on a river, in the middle of the night hucking a soaking-wet and heavy fly across a great run, or so you think, and you strip it back in, using, if you're lucky, the tip of your rod, to skate the fly across a deep run where you think or hope a large brown lives; you may find some huge and carnivorous monster on the end of your line. Fish eat fish. Eat mice like mice ("Eat pig like pig," is some strange line I still remember from Joyce's Ulysses and it's utter nonsense.). Sometimes mice cross a stream or river, and with the intention to get to the other side or not, get eaten under darkness much like crepuscular ovipositing caddis get taken in your imagination while you're eating dinner with a fork and a knife.
Before true darkness sets in...
A brown trout, under headlamp supervision, is released well after midnight on Silver Creek.