Silver Dollar Perch

Yesterday was beautiful. Absolutely stunning in my neck of the woods. Warm, breezy, and pretty much a day that calls one to go fishing. Unfortunately for me, my schedule did not allow much if any of a fishing trip so I puttered around the house and indulged in fishing activities. First I finished up my bonefish flies for my trip this week, then I finally got around to putting together my new float tube and inflating it after I let it sit in its box in the corner for the better part of two months. However, I just had to catch a fish on a day like today and I figured I might find a solution.

Not two houses down from my house is a creek. In reality it is more of a trickle, but it holds water year round. I walk by it every day on the way to the park to train my lab, Rusty, on all things duck hunting, but as it is located in the middle of the city I live in I just assumed that it was pretty much just an overgrown drainage ditch. Today, I decided I would walk to the creek to see if I could find any signs of life. I walked up to the bridge and peered into a pool that was just upstream. Sure enough, gliding through the shadows was a perch! I ran home and planned my attack.

Because it just seemed like the thing to do, I sat down at my tying bench and figured this was a slam dunk contest on catching these fish. After all, nobody fishes for them except for the occasional great blue heron I see trading along the creek, and perch rarely turn down a meal- be it real or artificial. Therefore, I casually selected a number sixteen hook and proceeded to whip out a generic dry fly. I made the tail from yellow bucktail to catch the attention of the fish, made the body the drab green to match the bed of the creek, and gave it some nice bushy hackle- grizzly of course. I examined my creation with pride and looked forward to the catches it would bring me within the hour. Next I went to my rod closet.

Sitting in the corner was my trusty three weight. It is a short rod- seven and a half feet- and perfect for small brushy streams such as this. I rigged it up, tied on the dry fly and walked down to the creek. As I made my way to the bridge, I realized that access would pose a problem, so I walked to the park and examined the access from a smaller bridge that seemed to offer a path to the creek. Sure enough, there was a well worn trail through the brush that I could follow. I made it to the water and proceeded upstream. I came to a small pool. Probably three feet deep and about as big around as a very large dining room table. I saw perch scatter into the depths as I approached. I ignored their attempted escape and cast my dry fly to the head of the pool. It drifted down without a look at all. Nothing was interested. I false casted again and gently put the fly right where I had seen the perch. Still nothing. I decided to sit down and watch for a little while. The perch eventually came back out and I slowly crept up to the pool. Again, I cast my dry fly, the pride of my vise from earlier that afternoon, without as much as a look.

Fortunately for me, I brought a small fly box and in it I had some of my stand by flies. I selected a bead head pheasant tail in about an eighteen and recast to the pool. The fish were still fleeing from silouette. It was then that I remembered the great blue herons that frequent this creek. These fish were not dumb to the game, and knew that when something is looming over the pool, there is danger in the area. Before I knew it I was crouched down on my knees, casting like I do for cutthroat trout and brookies on high mountain streams. These "easy" perch were forcing me to be as cautious as I could. They were proving to be as challenging as any other fish I have tried to catch. If I put the cast to far out, or lined the pool with too much fly line it would send every fish in there running for cover. The times I did manage to get the fly in the pool without spooking the fish they ignored it completely. I was getting blanked! I attempted all different kinds of retrieves without success.

At last, I unlocked the puzzle with a well placed cast and a retrieve that was lightening fast at fist and then I let the fly drift in the pond. I felt that old tap- tap and raised the fly rod. It was then that the quiver of the bluegill struggling against the line was felt in my hands. I brought the fish to hand and gently released the fish, one of the smallest bluegills I have ever caught. It was no bigger than a silver dollar. Figuring it was best to quit while I was ahead, I clipped the fly from my tippett, reeled in the line and went back to the house.

Sitting on the couch a little while later, I was still basking in the feeling of accomplishment. I had caught a fish in a spot that I never would have guessed held fish. What's more is that the bluegills proved to be quite the challenge and in catching one I felt like I had really accomplished something. Sure they were "just perch" but they proved to be as wiley as any other fish I have tried to catch. It was tough bringing one to hand, but I was grateful for the lessons I got that day from the silver dollar perch.

Those BG can be very picky at times. I fish for them often and sometimes end up using 10-15 flies before I find something they like that day. Other days, I have 30 or so fish in a hour with one fly from the same pond that perviously took 15 flies. Go figure.

Bingo! When I fish water that small for bluegills my usual flies are size 20 and down. Most of the streams that small around here are slow enough for the clay to drop out of suspension, so the water is crystal clear, and it makes for quite the challenge.