No one quite knows for sure when the first popping bug was created. Perhaps it began with Mediterranean fisherman and the Quercus Suber (the cork oak tree). The tree grows almost exclusively in a specific part of Southwestern Europe (Portugal, Spain, Italy, Corsica, Sardinia) and Northwestern Africa (Algeria and Morocco).

Whether you're a pan fisherman, a bass fisherman or a trout bum, eventually you'll wind up trying your hand at night fishing. The romance of catching really big fish out in the open waters away from the protection of their day time sanctuaries is just too good to pass up! The lure of the 'lunkers' at night creates an irresistible urge to nail that big one that's going to the taxidermist.

You would think that after 48yrs, of which nearly 38 of them were spent doing some form of fly fishing that I would get it by now? But at times, it seems that I've only gotten worse with age. So much for that "aging like a fine wine" remark I always throw at my wife whenever she accuses me of getting old.

On my desk, at this little small town daily newspaper by which I've made my living for more years than I care to admit, are notes from city council and port commission meetings, police reports, phone books, press releases.

There are a couple coffee cups and drink can insulators. One says "a bad day fishing is better than a good day working." The other is some financial company propaganda.

In the Northeast once the banks are frozen, you need 2 things. First you need Midge patterns. And second, you need something blue. The Winter Blue pattern has been in my midge box for a few years now and is one of those killer-or-bust patterns. Whenever I find midging trout, it's usually one of the first patterns I reach for. I'll know within a few casts whether I am going to have a typical midge day, or a phenomenal day. They either kill this pattern, or they ignore it completely. It has accounted for my best winter midge days on several streams in central PA, and my best day ever on the Tulpehocken tail water.

It was Sunday afternoon. My wife suggested that I needed to be out on a pond. I will admit it was one of the few times that I readily follow her directions. I decided to head back to the pond I had been to last time. This time I can get the canoe in and see what I can do. I got there and got all the stuff in the canoe. I got down to the shore and looked at the water but it had more algae in it than it did the last time. I am still going to try in this pond, but can I figure out how to catch fish?

If you were limited to just the essentials for tying flies what would make your list? That was my quandary as I prepared to close up our Montana home and head for our winter digs in Arizona. In previous winters I had not carried any fly tying stuff with me but this year I thought I might tie a few flies during those times when I wasn't otherwise engaged. I'm not the type that can sit around and watch TV or even just twiddle my thumbs, and when I find myself at loose ends I tend to fall asleep.

"Some say big flies mean big fish, but sometimes that just is not true, the innovative angler must be observant and flexible when considering the options".

In the Rocky Mountain West there are few times in the fishing season that create the excitement generated by the appearance of the hoppers. For many, the onset of the hoppers means big flies and big trout! It is the eternal hope that the next cast will bring to the surface one of those fabled trophy trout.

2011 is quickly winding to a close, and it has been quite a year. In many parts of our country, and even around the world, we have experienced unusual weather. From record drought and heat, record floods, wildfires and tornadoes most of the nation has been affected by some type of unusual event directly related to weather.

After spending the winter in Arizona Dee and I spent the summer in Montana. After nearly 40 years Montana is my home. I have lived there, in the same house and in the same town longer than I have lived anywhere else in my 68+ years. Now, whenever I go away I soon get a longing to be back home, home in Montana. This was the place that my late wife and I raised our daughter, spent our working years, made friends and put down roots. Perhaps John Denver said it best when he sang; "Sometimes this old farm seems like a long lost friend, hey it's good to be back home again." Although it's not a farm it's always good to be back home again.