I tied my first flies using my father's table vise in the basement. They were constructed with various colors of wool yard and feathers plucked from chickens that my father, brother and I had killed and later eaten.

After tying these flies I rode my bike about 5 miles to a local trout stream that I often fished, and promptly caught a trout that rose to my fly. I still have a memory of that rising fish, and the thrill of seeing him come up from behind that rock. The fish was hooked, and so was I. I was about 12 years old at the time.