Stretching north of the bleached concrete building where we work, a network of canals and ditches weaves lymphatically through the California farmland. The brownwater system may be noticed by airline passengers pressed to their windows during descent, but few others give it a second, or even a first, glance. Which is fine with us. We come to work fully loaded with rods and gear, and at lunch we strike out into the ditch-fishing heartland....
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