Going Back Down to BrownTown
- Nic Jovanovich
- Apr 17
- 9 min read
The Rise and Fall and Rise and Unclear Future of Brown Trout in Southwest Montana
Make sure you open the next correspondence from Downstream. You won't want to miss it!
The Brown Trout Bias
Ask any seasoned angler—guide, weekend warrior, or fly shop rat—and they’ll tell you: if they had to pick just one trout, it’d be the brown. Not because they’re easy. Quite the opposite.
Browns are the fish of obsession. They hold deep grudges and hit like a freight train when they’re in the mood. And when they’re not? Good luck. They vanish like ghosts. That unpredictability, that rawness, is what makes them so beloved.
Brown trout are ambush predators by nature, and their ability to disappear into water that looks way too shallow to hold a fish never ceases to amaze. They’ll sit tucked into inches of water under a willow branch, perfectly camouflaged, waiting for a hopper or mouse to drift by.
In heavy water, they hug the seams like they were built for hydraulics. And in back eddies and undercut banks, they become near-invisible, save for the occasional flick of a tail or shadowy shift upstream.
I can't tell you how many times a stout brown has taken a client's fly and headed immediately skyward. Of course, the common response is, "Rainbow!" So, so, so many times I've simply had to chuckle and reply, "No, sir! That's a brownie!" Then disbelief or an argumentative rebuttal, yada yada, until that butter hits the net.
Then there’s the look of them. No two browns are ever quite the same. Some are buttery yellow or caramel-colored, others glint like polished copper in the sun. Some are sparsely spotted, their sides clean and regal. Others are leopard-like, cloaked in a riot of dots, each one uniquely shaped. Orange dots...blazing red/orange dots...no colored dots whatsoever. It's like Forrest's infamous box of chocolates!
Some have blazing blue cheeks, like they’ve been kissed by glacier water. That variation comes in part from their lineage—Montana’s browns trace back to two distinct European strains: the German browns, which tend to be heavily spotted and brawny, and the Loch Leven strain from Scotland, known for sleeker builds and silver hues, especially in reservoir environments.
They're not just trout—they're art, attitude, and ancestry rolled into one.
A Tale of Tails
Southwest Montana is brown trout country. The rivers here—Big Hole, Beaverhead, Madison, Ruby—are etched into the soul of Western fly fishing. And for decades, browns were the unapologetic bullies of the stream: smart, spooky, and sometimes mean as hell.
Whether you're stripping a streamer through a cutbank at dusk or drifting a size 18 BWO on a spring morning, a brown's take is unmistakable. But recently, many longtime guides and locals started noticing something strange—the fish just weren’t there like they used to be.
Since around 2014, fish surveys and boots-on-the-ground observations have painted a worrying picture. On the Big Hole River, for example, brown trout counts near Melrose dropped from 1,800 fish per mile in 2014 to around 400 by 2022.
For a river that once boasted some of the best wild brown trout numbers in the West, that’s a serious gut punch. The decline wasn’t subtle either—fewer rising fish, fewer streamer eats, and fewer 20-inchers in the net. Something was clearly off.
Biologists and fish nerds started digging into the data. They pointed to a cocktail of stressors: reduced snowpack leading to low flows, increasingly warm summer water temps, overirrigation, nutrient loading from agricultural runoff, and the spread of disease like proliferative kidney disease (PKD). When flows drop and water warms, it’s a double whammy for cold-loving browns. Add in a record number of anglers and extended drought cycles, and you’ve got the perfect storm for trout trouble.
The Downturn: When the Bite Went Cold
For those of us who fish these waters religiously, the decline didn’t show up overnight—it crept in quietly, season by season. You’d notice it in the little things: fewer fish holding in the usual riffles, less activity on those classic fall streamer days, and more lulls on stretches that used to guarantee tight lines. Guides started lowering expectations. Locals started whispering. The magic seemed to be slipping.
In the Beaverhead and upper Madison, brown trout numbers also took a hit. FWP’s electrofishing surveys showed steep declines. On some stretches, brown trout were down by over 70% compared to their historical averages. And while the answer wasn’t cut-and-dry, the truth is: all of the above. Brown trout are hearty, but they’re also sensitive to change. And the change was coming.
Even more sobering was that these weren’t hatchery fish we could just replace. These were wild browns—born and raised in these rivers, shaped by the high country runoff and the cold Montana feeder creeks. Their decline wasn’t just a fish count issue. It was a wake-up call.
A brown trout crash here doesn’t just mean fewer fish—it signals that the ecosystem, the timing, the balance of the rivers, are off-kilter.
Turning the Tide: Signs of a Comeback
Here’s the good news: in the last two seasons, things have started to look... better. Not perfect. Not yet what they once were. But better. In 2024, the Big Hole River showed a glimmer of hope—brown trout numbers rose to over 500 per mile in the Melrose section, up from under 400 the year before. Still far from the 2014 peak, but that’s a solid, measurable bounce in the right direction.
Part of this resurgence likely comes down to improved water conditions in key seasons. While snowpack hasn’t rebounded to historic highs, we did get a few timely storms and cooler spring runoff windows. That’s bought trout some breathing room—literally.
More oxygen, colder temps, and cleaner spawning gravel can make a big difference. It’s also worth noting that browns are prolific spawners. Given the chance, they can rebuild if we don’t over-pressure them during critical life stages.
And that’s where anglers and conservationists stepped up. Local fly shops, outfitters, and nonprofits began pushing education, reducing guide days, and encouraging stewardship-minded fishing.
The attitude has started to shift—from “How many can I catch today?” to “How can I help this river fish better five years from now?” It's a slow rebuild, but brown trout have always played the long game. We’re starting to see what that patience can yield.
Conservation in Action: Protecting the Browns
Montana FWP didn’t sit on their hands either. In the wake of population declines, they implemented emergency regulations in 2023 and 2024 across the Big Hole, Beaverhead, and Ruby. These included catch-and-release only stretches, seasonal closures during spawning windows, and restrictions on treble hooks and bait.
For some, it felt heavy-handed, but for forward-thinking anglers, it felt like the right move. You don’t rebuild wild trout numbers without letting some fish grow old.
Local nonprofits like the Big Hole River Foundation and the Madison River Foundation played a key role too. From advocating for better flow management to ramping up monitoring efforts, their boots-on-the-ground approach has made a real difference.
Citizen science programs now give anglers a chance to contribute to data collection, and stream restoration projects are patching up eroded banks, reconnecting side channels, and improving spawning gravel. It’s a reminder that fly fishing isn’t just about casting—it’s about caretaking.
On the community side, there’s been a cultural shift. Anglers are starting to brag less about numbers and more about moments. That one 22-inch brown that came up slow on a dry during golden hour? That’s the new flex.
Catch-and-release is expected, barbless hooks are normal, and streamside etiquette matters more than ever. The masses are beginning to realize that our rivers are living, breathing systems—not just playgrounds. And to keep this fishery wild and worthy, we’ve got to fish with our heads AND our hearts.
The Road Ahead: Challenges and Opportunities
Even with the hopeful uptick, the road back to peak brown trout populations is going to be a marathon, not a sprint. Climate remains a big unknown. Snowpack this past winter was decent but below average in many basins, and while recent storms helped a bit, the long-term trend is unknown.
That means rivers will need every trick in the book to stay cool and healthy—shaded banks, strong groundwater inputs, and smart flow management from upstream reservoirs.
Pressure on the rivers isn’t going away either. Southwest Montana remains a bucket-list destination for anglers across the world.
So it’s on us—locals, guides, DIY die-hards—to keep advocating for responsible use. That might mean fishing early and quitting before temps hit 68, skipping the spawn runs, or even giving browns a break entirely some seasons. Sacrifice today means fishability tomorrow.
But here's the thing: brown trout are survivors. They’re gritty.
They’ve been here since the 1800s, and they’ve adapted through floods, droughts, and human interference. With the right stewardship, they’ll stick around for our kids and grandkids to chase.
And nothing beats the adrenaline spike when you see that golden flash under a logjam or feel the heavy, deliberate headshake of a big brown on the line. We’re not just going back to BrownTown—we’re rebuilding it, brick by fishy brick.
SIDEBAR: How You Can Help Brown Trout Bounce Back
Want to keep browns thriving in Montana’s rivers? It doesn’t take a PhD in fisheries science—just some simple on-water habits that go a long way:
🎣 Fish Smart in the Heat
Brown trout start getting stressed when water temps climb above 68°F. Carry a thermometer, fish early when it's cool, and call it a day if temps spike midday. The fish—and your karma—will thank you.
📸 Keep 'Em Wet
We all love a grip-and-grin, but air exposure can be rough on trout, especially during warmer months. Use a rubber net, keep the fish submerged while unhooking, and if you're snapping a quick pic, get it done fast—like, Olympic-level fast. I suggest using video mode on your phone and later, using the screen-shot feature to grab some still images.
🚫 Respect the Redds
Spawning browns need space. Avoid walking on gravel beds in shallow tailouts during fall and winter. October–November is spawning season, and the alvin stay in the gravel beds generally into January or February. Those subtle gravel mounds with cleared centers? That’s the next generation. Step lightly ...or not at all.
🧹 Leave It Better
Pick up trash, report bank erosion or pollution, and support conservation-minded fly shops and organizations. A healthy river system benefits everything in the food chain, including you.
🧠 Educate & Advocate
Talk to other anglers. Share the science. Advocate for smart river management, responsible dam releases, and thoughtful regulations. Don't be an ass though. That never helps anything. A well-informed fishing community is a powerful one.
Gear Up: Tools of the Trade for Brown Town
When you're hunting brown trout in the rivers of Southwest Montana, you're not just going fishing—you're going into battle. Browns are cunning, opportunistic, and sometimes downright rude. Your gear needs to be dialed, adaptable, and ready for anything from tiny technical dries to meaty streamers hurled at cutbanks. Here’s what we’d recommend if you're serious about getting in the brown game.
🎣 Rods: Versatility is Key
A fast-action 9-foot 5-weight is your all-around workhorse for dries and light nymph rigs, but don't sleep on a 6-weight with a fighting butt if you're planning to chuck streamers. Brands like Sage, Scott, and Winston (especially made-in-Montana Winston) make rods that can handle big water and big fish.
🧵 Lines & Leaders
For streamer work, pair your rod with a sink-tip or full-sink line (type 3 or 6 depending on current) and a short, stout leader—think 0x or 1x. For dries, a smooth-weight-forward floating line and a longer 4x or 5x leader gives you finesse when it counts. Keep a few poly leaders in your kit for swinging soft hackles when nothing else is working.
🦗 Flies: Match the Mood, Not Just the Hatch
Browns love protein. Sure, they'll sip a BWO if they're in the mood, but often, it's the big buggy stuff that turns heads:
Streamers: Dungeons, Circus Peanuts, Peanut Envys, and Mini Drunk & Disordelies in olive, black, or white. Yellow in the spring.
Dries: Chubby Chernobyls, Hecuba imitations, or a good old Parachute Adams, PMD, or purple haze. Big and buggy on the freestones. Small, delicate, and perfect presentations on tailwaters and spring creeks.
Nymphs: Pat's Rubberlegs, CDC pheasant tails, or anything with a hot spot—browns have a taste for drama. Euro jigs like rednecks, Frenchies, and the like are great summer throug fall. In the tailwaters, more realistic splitback emergers, no-bead pheasant tails, and killer may nymphs are usually sure winners.
Also, invest in a solid rubber net, hemostats, thermometer, and polarized lenses (amber or copper tint) so you can see that brown tucked just under the bank, hiding in plain sight.
Final Cast: Brown Town and Beyond
At the end of the day, this story isn’t just about brown trout. It’s about what they represent—wildness, resilience, and the mystery that keeps us coming back to these rivers year after year.
These fish have lived here longer than most of us have been alive. They’ve endured floods, fires, droughts, and the slow creep of human pressure. And yet, they’re still here—fins slicing through the Big Hole, eyes watching from a shadow in the Madison, backs barely visible beneath a riffle in the Beaverhead.
We’re not just visitors to BrownTown—we’re stewards. Whether you're a local guide running a hundred fifty days a year or a weekend angler driving in from Bozeman or Idaho Falls, we all have skin in the game.
How we fish, how we treat the river, how we speak up when it counts—that stuff matters. And you can do it without being a sanctimonious asshole. Because brown trout don’t need our pity. They need our respect.
So the next time you’re standing knee-deep in Montana water, fly in hand, looking for that perfect cast... remember that you're part of this story now. You’re one of the folks helping to rebuild BrownTown. One cast, one fish, one river at a time.
Make sure you open the next correspondence from Downstream. You won't want to miss it!
Cheers and tight lines!
-N
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