In those days when even the beaches
of Green Bay were clean enough
for swimming, the marshes
had muskrat houses and dogfish minnows
and snipe and nesting mallards,
and the wild blue iris that we called
sweet flag - in those days
we fished Queen of the Waters, Ginger Quill,
Coachman, Grizzly King, Brown
Hackle, Gray Hackle,
White Miller, maybe
a Parmacheene Belle from time
to time, Cowdung or Beaverkill,
but I favored
the Professor for tail fly, Silver Sedge
or Pink Lady for the dropper,
though nowadays
such dressing won't do,
the trout are all entomologists,
they don't find the idea
of a hatch of Professors
or Queen of the Waters especially
credible, and so
if you want a dressing
that seems to appeal to the large
modern trout, here's one, copied
from the Peshtigo's
Hexagenia limbata: Wing - dark
brown hair, bucktail, racoon or mink, upright
and divided. Tail - hair fibers, as above.
Body: - yellowish spun fur, ribbed
with bold spirals of brown. Rib the body
with brown hackle stems. Hackle - furnace, all this
on a 6 or 8 XL. With this dressing
I've had much luck across the years, even when
it went by the name
of Dark Michigan Mayfly.
Then, of course, there's the Red Quill,
Ephemerella subvaria, a great standby
throughout the early spring,
and at other times as well, and good
for several other flies common
in Vermont, one of them
am Epheorus of dark
complexion. Leptophebia
cupida, this
is the Whirling Dun, although
you are likely to find it burdened
by almost any name, depending
on what fly the angler thinks
he's imitating. We have a writer
on the Post who called it last spring
The Barrington because
that happened to be the fly he was using
during the hatch, and he caught
a few fish, and so he wrote
"The sky was full of Barringtons." A difficult fly
to dress, for the wing
has lost its richness of slate,
and while almost transparent has
something of a brownish-bluish shade
lent it by the veins. As for the March Brown -
no comment needed. He won't often
be required, but when he is
you'll be sick if you haven't
a supply. Stenonema vicarium,
an admirable fly. If he
were an angler, he would be
wise, witty, clear-spoken, graceful, never
ponderous or opaque, never or at least
not often, given
to ripe philosophizing,
forever observant, colorful, full of abhorrence
for the quaint and admiration
for the truly strong of character
and personality. Most authors say
you can substitute the March Brown for
the Gray Fox, when the gray Stenonema
is hatching, and vice versa, and no doubt
they are right, but I
have never tried it, and why should I, because
it's a great entertainment
to dress them both, no better waste
of time I can think of, and besides
if one is going in for imitation
why do it half way? So I say
make up a dozen of the Gray Fox, and you'll be delighted
when you see the natural, abundant in Vermont,
Stenonema ithaca by name, dressed
in grayish mode, legs
handsomely banded dark
and light, very lively, quick
and independent of disposition,
with a personality that seems
developed, at least compared
with other mayflies. The Light Cahill is another fly
it's a pleasure to make, and lovely
to use when the eyes
are not as sharp as they used
to be, and even when they are, because
no matter, you can always see it.
And to it I owe
one three-pounder at the head
of Healey's Rapids, and the memory
of one the same size lost
when the hook bent, and many smaller.
Black Gnat, Equinox Gnat
or Mosquito, these I employ
on the upper meadows of the Clyde, though seldom
on the Connecticut, where they have not
proved useful. The big idea
is to keep them small, no more
than two-thirds the size
the hook will accommodate, and even then
they'll look hopelessly too large. As for
the Blue Dun, an important fly
for the smaller hatches, I don't care
if you dress it as dark blue or iron blue,
but in either case keep it small. Sometimes
in the rain the trout will be slashing away
at the hatch of this fly,
and the gnats will be attacking
the little sails as they come down
the current, and you'll be able
to see the natural better
than the artificial, though if
you're wearing glasses,
you'll be hopelessly
up against it, because
in such weather the lens
fogs over the no doubt
already fogging eye, and I've seen
more than one angler gone thus blind
say the hell with it, clip off
his fly, sit down
discouraged on a rock,
and fish breaking
all over the pools! ~John Engels