10 Visitor Messages

  1. I'll be darned. The whole thread disappeared, huh? In searching I found your other post in Fly Tying and reposted there. Good Luck... g
  2. View Conversation
    HideHunter:
    I got a notice in my email that you posted a reply to my post in the Fly Anglers Online section. However, something has happened to my post, so I can't get to your response. If you can, would you mind reposting? You could either paste into a reply here or shoot me an email at teachmarkey@hotmail.com. Thanks! Hugh
  3. Good to hear from you, Charlaine! Just about to head out for a little trout fishing trip.

    Hope you are well also!

    takecare... g
  4. View Conversation
    stopping by to say hello. hello!!!! hope all is well
  5. View Conversation
    did you get the skins i ent. 4 white rabbit
  6. View Conversation
    Happy B-Day!!
  7. View Conversation
    I would like one of each if possible My address KIM BURNETT 1031 N JAN-MAR OLATHE KANSAS 66061 GOD BLESS!!!!!
  8. View Conversation
    Thank you so much. I will put them to use this weekend. Beautiful specimens.
    P.S. The first day of squirrel season is so big in Louisiana it is a school holiday for the northern half of the state. True story.
  9. View Conversation
    HideHunter ? what a generous offer. I would love either a gray or fox or both. I tie a number of crayfish with both colors as well as clousers and a bigger wet fly. If you have any left pleased send it/them to Jim Turvold, 216 North Elm Street, Cresco, Iowa 52136. I'll send you a crayfish or two and a clouser or two. thanks. I probably have enough to get me through this tying season if you have been swamped with requests.
  10. View Conversation
    Happy, happy birthday!!
    Hope your water is soft enough that you can get out and fling at the fish!!
    Betty
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About HideHunter

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Date of Birth
March 18, 1951 (63)
About HideHunter
Location:
SE Iowa
Interests:
Hunt for anything that walks, flies or crawls on it's belly. Fish for anything that pulls back.
Occupation:
kept man

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"Flyfishing is not a religion. You can make up your own rules as you go.".. Jim Hatch.. 2/27/'06

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Recent Entries

Purism - Or The Lack There-of

by HideHunter on 02-28-2010 at 11:43 PM

I am a ?fly-fisherman?.

Fly-fishermen are often referred to as ?purists? and more often accused of ?elitism?.
Purism is simply the strict observance of ?correctness?, usually in the ?traditional? sense. Simply, ?do it right, with the right equipment?. I?m guessing no one much cares if someone else chooses to ?observe correctness?.

The ?elite? are those who have reached the top of their field, usually by hard work and sacrifice. I?m guessing no one has a problem with hard work and sacrifice. (Okay, I might have a little problem with hard work.)

The problems begin when the ?elite? and the ?purist? insist on ?purism? by everyone else. By this definition that is called ?elitism? and it?s a derogatory term.

I?m not particularly proud of the fact I fly-fish. On the other hand, I?m certainly not ashamed of it. In fact, the reason I might feel proud, or ashamed, seems to escape me. I cannot see that fly-fishing has made me a better person. I?ve not seen it has improved the quality of the whisky I drink, the women with whom I?m seen, the cigars I smoke or the people I associate with. It certainly hasn?t made me any money.

We might better be able to break the whole problem down to eating. I know a few ?vegetarians?. They simply have chosen to eat primarily, or wholly, plants. Most do this because they believe it to be healthier. I have no problem with that at all.
Then, there is the ?vegan?. Vegans tend to eat only plants and choose to use no animal products such as leather, milk or fur; again, a choice with which I don?t have a problem. On the other hand, Vegans often tend to be much more vocal about their choices. Vegans think I should follow their beliefs and/or choices. With this, I do have problem. It?s when they try to remove the fourteen-ounce ribeye from my plate that they are likely to get a fork in the back of their hand.

Being a bit of a barbarian and what my wife and mother describe as ? a man you can lead forever but can?t push a step?, a few people attempting to practice elitism have discovered my figurative ?fork in the back of their hand?.

Okay, time for the second half of my admission. I am a ?warm water fly-fisherman?. Now you might better understand why purism escapes me. I am from among the ?unwashed?.

Warm water fly-fishing is the red-headed step child of fly-fishing. I see very little elitism practiced among warm water fly-fishermen. Let?s be honest, it?s a little hard to feel too elite when you are sliding into the water, one foot ankle deep in the mud and the other balanced precariously, dead-center in a cow pie. Purism goes out the window when the fly, on your back cast, is picked off by a thousand pounds, or so, of prime beef. Best to point the rod directly at the offending cow and hope the tippet parts easily. Believe me, she is not any happier about it than you are.

You don?t exactly qualify for the cover of the Orvis catalog when your waders are cut-off blue jeans and a pair of old tennis shoes. Or your fanny pack is the same faded camo one that holds turkey calls in the spring and muzzleloading supplies in the fall.

You have lost any lofty status fly-fishing may have brought when you choose to use your 4 weight to fend off a 25 pound snapping turtle that has decided he wants the bluegills hanging from your float tube. Being thrashed with a skinny fishing pole does little to deter a determined snapping turtle, by the way. I recommend a hasty retreat. Note: Snapping turtles can swim really fast ? even when being thrashed with a 4 weight.

A quick sprint, belly-slide and bull snot on the back of your legs is somewhat humbling. Not much fun, but like old age, it?s better than the alternative.

Warm water fly-fishing is not totally about the fish. It?s about the sunrises and sunsets and the time alone on the water. It?s not all about catching fish. In most cases you could catch more on lures, or jigs, on a spinning rod or baitcaster, or even a bobber and bait. And most warm water fly-fishermen know they could because they probably have done so extensively. Fly tackle is seldom the very best tool for the job. It?s not about high-dollar equipment and perfect flies or perfect casts. It?s not about cane, or fiberglass or IM16 graphite. It?s not about being superior to anyone and it?s certainly not about something you saw in a movie.

It?s not about entomology and knowing the name of every insect that flies, swims or crawls. The guys I fish with have developed descriptions of insects that far eclipse the Latin names. ?So, what are they feeding on??
?BBBs?. (big black bugs)
There are also ?LBBs? (little) and ?LTBBs? (little tiny) and ?NADT? (not a .. well you get the idea).

So, why fly-fishing? Sure, there are some differences but mostly, fish are still fish. Locations may change but water mostly has the same depth and clarity no matter your choice of tackle. The sunrises and sunsets are the same. The birds still sing, the frogs still croak and the mosquitoes still buzz around your ears.

So, it?s not all about the fish. But, enough about what warm water fly-fishing is ?not? about. What is about? No matter how you pretty it up, or strive for the perfect rod or perfect fly or perfect cast ? it is mostly about the fish. We don?t, so much, make it about the quality of the equipment, the perfect cast or the prefect presentation. It?s not about the ?experience?. It?s mostly about catching fish.

There is a lot of enjoyment in fishing with fly tackle. It does take some skills and some practice. Everyone would like to be a better caster, but, for many warm water fly fishermen there comes a point when agonizing over perfect form and perfect loops becomes ?fly casting? and not ?fly fishing?. You could ?fly cast? in a parking lot. It?s mostly about catching fish.

Most warm water fly-fishermen have followed a progression here. Many are accomplished with spinning and bait tackle and many still use both. Most enjoy the time spent fishing no matter the tackle and many (Heaven forbid) often enjoy a meal of fish. I?ve seen warm water fly fishermen with the cheapest ?Wally World special? to equipment that cost more than my truck.

Many come for the challenge. Some come for the simplicity and may be ?progressing backwards? from patchwork shirts and sparkly boats and tackle boxes the size of footlockers. Philosophically, some perhaps, are searching for something they feel they may have lost.

In spite of the fact our choice of tackle may confuse our hard-driving, ?run and gun? brethren and we may even be looked down on by some of our ?upstream and dry? brethren, most of us have one major all-encompassing reason we fly-fish in warm water. We do it because it is fun.









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Purism - Or The Lack There-of

by HideHunter on 02-28-2010 at 11:39 PM

I am a ?fly-fisherman?.

Fly-fishermen are often referred to as ?purists? and more often accused of ?elitism?.
Purism is simply the strict observance of ?correctness?, usually in the ?traditional? sense. Simply, ?do it right, with the right equipment?. I?m guessing no one much cares if someone else chooses to ?observe correctness?.
The ?elite? are those who have reached the top of their field, usually by hard work and sacrifice. I?m guessing no one has a problem with hard work and sacrifice. (Okay, I might have a little problem with hard work.)
The problems begin when the ?elite? and the ?purist? insist on ?purism? by everyone else.
By this definition that is called ?elitism? and it?s a derogatory term.
I?m not particularly proud of the fact I fly-fish. On the other hand, I?m certainly not ashamed of it. In fact, the reason I might feel proud, or ashamed, seems to escape me. I cannot see that fly-fishing has made me a better person. I?ve not seen it has improved the quality of the whisky I drink, the women with whom I?m seen, the cigars I smoke or the people I associate with. It certainly hasn?t made me any money.
We might better be able to break the whole problem down to eating. I know a few ?vegetarians?. They simply have chosen to eat primarily, or wholly, plants. Most do this because they believe it to be healthier. I have no problem with that at all.
Then, there is the ?vegan?. Vegans tend to eat only plants and choose to use no animal products such as leather, milk or fur; again, a choice with which I don?t have a problem. On the other hand, Vegans often tend to be much more vocal about their choices. Vegans think I should follow their beliefs and/or choices. With this, I do have problem. It?s when they try to remove the fourteen-ounce ribeye from my plate that they are likely to get a fork in the back of their hand.
Being a bit of a barbarian and what my wife and mother describe as ? a man you can lead forever but can?t push a step?, a few people attempting to practice elitism have discovered my figurative ?fork in the back of their hand?.
Okay, time for the second half of my admission. I am a ?warm water fly-fisherman?. Now you might better understand why purism escapes me. I am from among the ?unwashed?.
Warm water fly-fishing is the red-headed step child of fly-fishing. I see very little elitism practiced among warm water fly-fishermen. Let?s be honest, it?s a little hard to feel too elite when you are sliding into the water, one foot ankle deep in the mud and the other balanced precariously, dead-center in a cow pie. Purism goes out the window when the fly, on your back cast, is picked off by a thousand pounds, or so, of prime beef. Best to point the rod directly at the offending cow and hope the tippet parts easily. Believe me, she is not any happier about it than you are.
You don?t exactly qualify for the cover of the Orvis catalog when your waders are cut-off blue jeans and a pair of old tennis shoes. Or your fanny pack is the same faded camo one that holds turkey calls in the spring and muzzleloading supplies in the fall.
You have lost any lofty status fly-fishing may have brought when you choose to use your 4 weight to fend off a 25 pound snapping turtle that has decided he wants the bluegills hanging from your float tube. Being thrashed with a skinny fishing pole does little to deter a determined snapping turtle, by the way. I recommend a hasty retreat. Note: Snapping turtles can swim really fast ? even when being thrashed with a 4 weight.
A quick sprint, belly-slide and bull snot on the back of your legs is somewhat humbling. Not much fun, but like old age, it?s better than the alternative.
Warm water fly-fishing is not totally about the fish. It?s about the sunrises and sunsets and the time alone on the water. It?s not all about catching fish. In most cases you could catch more on lures, or jigs, on a spinning rod or baitcaster, or even a bobber and bait. And most warm water fly-fishermen know they could because they probably have done so extensively. Fly tackle is seldom the very best tool for the job. It?s not about high-dollar equipment and perfect flies or perfect casts. It?s not about cane, or fiberglass or IM16 graphite. It?s not about being superior to anyone and it?s certainly not about something you saw in a movie.
It?s not about entomology and knowing the name of every insect that flies, swims or crawls. The guys I fish with have developed descriptions of insects that far eclipse the Latin names. ?So, what are they feeding on??
?BBBs?. (big black bugs)
There are also ?LBBs? (little) and ?LTBBs? (little tiny) and ?NADT? (not a .. well you get the idea).
So, why fly-fishing? Sure, there are some differences but mostly, fish are still fish. Locations may change but water mostly has the same depth and clarity no matter your choice of tackle. The sunrises and sunsets are the same. The birds still sing, the frogs still croak and the mosquitoes still buzz around your ears.
So, it?s not all about the fish. But, enough about what warm water fly-fishing is ?not? about. What is about? No matter how you pretty it up, or strive for the perfect rod or perfect fly or perfect cast ? it is mostly about the fish. We don?t, so much, make it about the quality of the equipment, the perfect cast or the prefect presentation. It?s not about the ?experience?. It?s mostly about catching fish.
There is a lot of enjoyment in fishing with fly tackle. It does take some skills and some practice. Everyone would like to be a better caster, but, for many warm water fly fishermen there comes a point when agonizing over perfect form and perfect loops becomes ?fly casting? and not ?fly fishing?. You could ?fly cast? in a parking lot. It?s mostly about catching fish.
Most warm water fly-fishermen have followed a progression here. Many are accomplished with spinning and bait tackle and many still use both. Most enjoy the time spent fishing no matter the tackle and many (Heaven forbid) often enjoy a meal of fish. I?ve seen warm water fly fishermen with the cheapest ?Wally World special? to equipment that cost more than my truck.
Many come for the challenge. Some come for the simplicity and may be ?progressing backwards? from patchwork shirts and sparkly boats and tackle boxes the size of footlockers. Philosophically, some perhaps, are searching for something they feel they may have lost.
In spite of the fact our choice of tackle may confuse our hard-driving, ?run and gun? brethren and we may even be looked down on by some of our ?upstream and dry? brethren, most of us have one major all-encompassing reason we fly-fish in warm water. We do it because it is fun.









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The Transition Prequel.. Part Deux

by HideHunter on 03-14-2008 at 01:17 AM
..continued from "The Transition..The Prequel".


I spent much of that summer whipping the water to a froth with that old solid glass spinning rod and level fly line. By the end of the summer most of the varnish had fallen off and it didn't catch in the guides so badly. I donated a few poppers to fish and to the overhanging bush. The only "allowance" I got was the cream I was given for milking the old cow morning and night. I sold it weekly at Meyerholz Feed and Seed and made a couple dollars. The local "Western Auto" store became my fly shop. They had several cards of various colored poppers. Most of them were 15 cents though some were a quarter (dang, that was two and half bottles of pop). I accumulated several colors. Though white and yellow were good - black soon became my favorite and still is to this day. They didn't have any "wet" flies but I couldn't imagine, in my wildest dreams, why anyone would want to use one anyway. I was convinced, "Top water is where it is at."

One hot summer evening I was thrashing around catching small 'gills and crappie in my private "pasture pond". I was only about a hundred yards from the road and looked up when I heard a pickup slow down. I recognized one of the neighbors, Jim Taylor, a heavy equipment operator. I saw him back up, park the truck and step across the gate. When I say, "step across", I mean it literally. Jim was one of the biggest men I've ever had the pleasure to know. He'd had a stellar college heavyweight, wrestling career and was an ardent sportsman.

He walked up and said, "I've been seeing you fish all summer. Thought I'd see how you were getting along. You don't see a lot of flyfishermen in these parts."

By way of much practice I had worked my way up to maybe fifteen feet of line and though my popper, leader and line lit on the water with all the grace of a cement block, I was catching the more-than-willing panfish regularly enough to keep me interested. Jim asked to take a look at my equipment, stripped out some line and managed to put about 40 or 50 feet of line in the air and dropped it into the water with barely a splash. I was shocked - and a little embarrassed. Looking back, I realize he must have been a fairly accomplished caster to do what he did with the equipment he was working with.

He said, "Son, you have your hands full using the equipment you are using. I'll be right back."

In a matter of minutes he had gone home and returned with a "real" fly fishing outfit. I have no idea what it was, except that it was brown, glass, longer and lighter than mine. I'm guessing it was probably a Fenwick. The era would be about right. The line was light brown instead of green and didn't have a single crack in it. The reel was tiny compared to my big green automatic and clicked rapidly as he stripped off line. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Jim gave me a casting lesson that evening and though I was clumsy and confused I managed to get out some line and more importantly (to me) catch a few more fish.

We fished until after dark and said our goodbyes. I rode my bicycle the mile and a half home, in the dark, rehearsing the story as to why I was late. By the time I got home it was darker than the inside of a cow and past my bedtime. Fortunately, I was so excited in the telling of my story the folks forgot to bawl me out. Jim moved away shortly after that and I never saw him again. I heard he later campaigned a great line of English Setters.

About that time one of Dad's "rich" friends gave me a handful of hunting and fishing magazines. We didn't have the cash for such frivolities so I treasured them greatly. I read those things until the pages began to fade and I had them memorized. One of the stories was about Billy Pate, Stu Apte, Lefty Kreh and many of the other big names in saltwater flyfishing. They were meeting every spring in Florida to try to land a 200 pound tarpon on a 12 pound tippet. There was another story about Ted Trueblood catching native brook trout and frying them for breakfast. Pretty heady stuff for a 11 year old Iowa farmboy. I had every intention of becoming a great flyfisherman.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), as I grew older I discovered spinning reels and baitcasters.. and girls and cars.. and quail and bird dogs. I also discovered that few of my new waters allowed for the backcast my old pasture pond did. Still a "lure flinger" I'd become a "passing fair" fisherman and I'd become obsessed with big fish.

Now, we have to fast-forward about 35 years. Though I was still an ardent fisherman adding bodies of water in a number of states, and a couple of foreign countries, to my local farm ponds, somehow the flyrod had lost its appeal. Then one evening a good friend's 17 year old son called me to tell me he had bought a flyrod and could I teach him how to cast it? Inexplicably I said, "Sure." On the drive over to his house it dawned on me the hole I had dug for myself.

He had bought a nice little entry-level combo from LL Bean, a six weight I think. I started covering my butt immediately with excuses about how long it had "been". We walked to edge of the pond and I stripped out 40 or 50 feet of line (exceeding my confidence by about 30 feet) and began to play it out in the air. I was trying to remember *anything* Jim had taught me - to keep my wrist straight, watch my backcast and *anything* else from many years before. Suddenly, I got enough line in the air the pull of the WF line kicked in and when I let go line squirted out of that rod like it was greased. All the line on the ground shot through the guides and everything hit the "end" so hard the line slapped the rod and the fly bounced back four feet. It was easily twice as far as I had ever cast I my life. I was so shocked I just kind of stood there and as the fly sunk, a fat bluegill attached itself. The bluegill wasn't the only thing "hooked". I was "back".

Within a week, or so, the kid was a better caster than I ever was or will be. Ah, to have eyes and hands that still work together.. and at the same time. Old age isn't so going to be so bad really - it's just so danged inconvenient.

That's been close to 10 years ago now. The kid and I fish together regularly. When he was very young I used to go get him and take him fishing. Now he comes and gets me. It's a much better deal really. We hand each other a considerable amount of ribbing. Much to his mother's relief, he has somehow managed to *not* pickup all my bad habits. Though he hunts and fishes, he doesn't drink whisky or chew tobacco and holds down a regular job. I've always done two and not the other. You can try to guess which ones. While he is a much more accomplished caster than I am, through old age, experience, luck and treachery I am able to out-fish him occasionally.

Warm water flyfishing has become a passion. I have several rods and reels, decent quality, bought on sale and through closeouts. I now "roll my own" flies, though I tie like I cast - with great enthusiasm and not much skill.

But I also know from some nearly half-century of experience, flyfishing is like sex. You don't have to be an expert to enjoy it.. and.. if I can just get a fly of some kind on the water, a fish might just eat it.

Updated 03-14-2008 at 01:34 AM by HideHunter

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The Transition.. The Prequel

by HideHunter on 03-12-2008 at 05:09 PM
When I wrote "The Transition Begins" I was referencing the yearly move from icefishing to flyfishing. It *is* quite a transition from a 24 inch rod to an eight footer and from a #12 RatFinkee to a #12 Woolly Bugger - or a 1/0 Stealth Bomber.

But it got me to thinking about other transitions I have made within my experience as a fisherman. I actually got my start in fishing as a toddler and even flyfishing at a pretty young age. My dad was, and is, an accomplished fisherman. But, like so many of his generation who experienced the Great Depression, he was, and is, largely a "meat" fisherman. Only in recent years has he begun to even remotely understand the concept of "Catch and Release". And admittedly, it's largely because larger fish are often poorer table fare.

"Catch and Release" (or, while we are "borrowing" terms) "Selective Harvest" came easily to me for a couple reasons. My grandfather was so much a rabid supporter of the bluegill as a sport, and food, fish (something I definitely inherited) he was even nicknamed "Sunfish" by some of his friends. Most of his fishing was done in the farm ponds within a couple of miles of his house. He soon deduced that removal of the large bass from those ponds resulted in overpopulation and stunting of his beloved bluegill. So by the time I was old enough to accompany him, he had a strict C&R policy on bass. There was no questioning him on this one - you'd just better realize, if you caught a bass, it was going back - period. "Headed", scaled, gutted and pan-fried by Grandma, those bluegill still rate as one of my most cherished childhood memories.

The second reason I was easily swayed is it became *very* apparent, *very* early that I was going to take this fishing *very* seriously. I grew up a farm boy on the banks of the Iowa River. It was not unusual for me to hurry through chores, grab my fishing rod and spend my days, until evening chores, on the banks of that river. As my skills grew so did my stringers. The first few batches of catfish I drug home, my dad was as excited as I was. He helped me clean them and made a big production of my "putting meat on the table". After a few "messes" became a lot of "messes" I got the "Hey, you caught 'em - you clean 'em" speech.

After a few sessions of that I had an epiphany. I doubt that I had ever heard the term "Catch and Release" but I became an ardent supporter of the concept. I could now fish all day, do my chores and sit down to supper without an hour, or so, of fish-cleaning chores hanging over my head. Good concept.

A year or two down the road I began to make trips, on my bicycle, to neighboring farm ponds. It was no small task - riding a bicycle, on a loose gravel road, while balancing a fishing rod across the handlebars and carrying a tackle box in one hand. It was about now that I discovered my cherished "Bronson Dart" spin-cast reel would throw a #2 Mepps nearly across most of the ponds. When I caught my first bass on it I became a confirmed "lure flinger". I soon became quite a snob - no "bobbers" or bait for me. That was for little kids and beginners. I was probably all of nine by then.

Over the next couple of years, the number of fish I caught on a Mepps and a Weber "Crappie Killer" would make a big pile.

It was on one of my many forays to a farm pond that I made an interesting observation. There was some kind of a flowering bush that had grown on the bank and was leaning over the water. It was blooming and absolutely alive with bees. Often one would fall into the water. It would immediately be rushed by three or four bluegills and occasionally there would be a much bigger swirl as the food chain followed its natural progression. Dragging my Mepps through there resulted in several bass and the Crappie Killer would be attacked as soon as it hit the water. Effective, yes, but I couldn't get the vision of those fish attacking the surface out of my head.

Dad had a "fly rod" though he seldom used it. I've found out since (I still have it) it was actually a fiberglass, spinning rod with sliding metal rings and had been pressed into service for that purpose. It had a cracked "level" line on the "automatic" reel and one of those little barbed eyes in the end of it. There was a white popper stuck into the cork handle and a couple more in Dad's tackle box. Armed with all this I pedaled back to the pond with blood in my eye.

As luck would have it, this was a "pasture" pond with absolutely no brush or trees but the lone flowered bush on the bank. I had seen my dad use the fly rod maybe once, so armed with this knowledge, and the confidence of youth, I played out a few feet of line. Surprisingly (I know now, possibly miraculously) I actually flipped the popper within a few feet of the tree without catching my ear or the back of my neck. Before I could react I was into my first "fly rod" fish, a voracious six inch bluegill. I set the hook so hard with the "medium" weight rod and eight feet of stiff line and eight pound mono leader the fish flew over my head and into the grass behind me. I pounced and, just like that, I was fly fisherman.

..to be continued..

(see "The Transition.. The Prequel.. Part Deux")

Updated 03-14-2008 at 01:45 AM by HideHunter

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The Transition

by HideHunter on 03-11-2008 at 02:36 AM
The Transition Begins...

Well, I find myself at that time of year I dread the most. The water is too thin to walk on and too thick to throw a fly through.

It's been a great year on the ice. Stretched it from just after Thanksgiving to the present. Fish bit well and I caught some real "quality" this year. Highlights included a 22 1/2" bass on two pound line and a #12 RatFinkee. Hope we can renew our acquaintance on the fly rod.



Lots of big, bull bluegill I dropped back through the hole to maintain the fishery and because I'm too selfish to only enjoy them once.

Also took my four year old grandson ice fishing for the first time. He caught his first "ice" fish and I would bet he is "hooked" for life.



But, all good things must come to and end and the long ice season has left my fly rods in need of polishing and my fly boxes in need of much more than that. So, today I started through them. My, I wonder how I ever caught a single fish on such an array of disheveled and downright raggedy feathers and fur? Looks like the moths and mice have been at them. They haven't - it just looks that way.

I see I am short on a number of my "go to" flies - bead-eyed Woolly Buggers, SMPs, Stealth Bombers, Pig Boats and Bunny Leeches. Considering the fact that I am incompetent at worst, and slow at best, I have my work cut out for me. This year I plan to add a bit of weight to my Buggers, a bit more color to the "Boats" and just enough Zonker strip tail to the Bombers to make them "settle" in the water a bit more.

It will be a couple of weeks, maybe a month, before I can find open water and even then the chances of actually catching a fish on a fly are pretty slim. So until then, I'll tie flies, stretch lines, tie new leaders, clean out my fanny pack. When there is liquid water I should probably bite the bullet, drag out the ultra-light and some tube jigs and see if I can catch a crappie or two.

Or?.. I could try a black #8 Bunny Leech with dumbbell eyes with maybe a few wraps of boa yarn for body? I haven't really given the new 5 wt. an honest test. Hey, it couldn't hurt.

Updated 03-11-2008 at 12:21 PM by HideHunter

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