GENERAL DIRECTIONS, OBSERVATIONS, ETC.
The fly-fisher may have acquired perfection in the art of throwing
the fly; he may fish with the finest gut and the smallest and most
killing flies; but _unless he keep out of sight of the fish_, he may
just as well stay at home—he will take no fish. If a splash in the
water, caused by the clumsy falling of the line, frighten away the
fish, the sight of the fisherman himself will send them all to their
holds, to a distance of thirty or forty yards from him! Trout are very
sharp-sighted, timid and wary; and whenever they chance to see the
fisherman, no bait whatever will be sufficient to tempt them to take
it, and the utmost skill and dexterity will be thrown away.
When you observe a trout rise at a fly, throw your fly about a foot
above where you judge his head to lie, and a little to the left or
right of him. If he does not rise at your first cast, throw again three
or four times. He will not take your fly unless it be presented to him
temptingly, and near to him. He will not quit his post for your fly if
it be out of his feeding circuit; and a few casts may bring it into
that desirable locality. Trout always lie with their heads looking up
the stream, watching for what it may bring them; and when they are
taking the fly readily, they swim within a few inches of the surface of
the water; but they will not go out of their feeding circuit to take
_any_ fly.
_The very instant_ you perceive a trout has taken your fly, strike him
_at the same instant_ by slightly elevating the wrist. This should be
done with the utmost rapidity, or the fish will manage to reject the
treacherous imitation that has deceived him, and you will not rise him
again for hours afterwards. In fact, I have often seen a good-sized
trout that had escaped after having been hooked, not only afterwards
invariably refuse the artificial fly, but quit his lair and take to his
shelter the moment he perceived the tail line fall on the water.
When you have hooked a fish, you must necessarily act as the nature
of the place will allow. If embarrassed with bushes, &c., get him out
as quickly as possible. You may chance to lose him in the endeavour,
but if you have not space for playing him, what is to be done? If you
are in a situation to be able to play him, do so, keeping him well in
hand with your bent rod. Never check a trout strongly in _his first_
run, if avoidable. If he should be approaching anything that would
endanger your line, strive to _guide_ him _gradually_ from it, by
gently inclining your rod in the direction you wish him to take, always
keeping him, as I before observed, well in hand with your bent rod.
Never pull _directly against him_; for, if you do, you will probably
cause him to plunge and leap in such a manner as to endanger your
tackle, or tear the hook from its hold in his mouth. Trout, like many
reasoning animals, may be easily _guided_, but never _compelled_, if
of good size and strength, until, by playing him, he has been made
too weary and exhausted for further contention. A small fish may
of course be landed at once, but a fish of good size and strength
should be _played_, if possible, until he becomes so exhausted by his
struggles as to offer a favourable opportunity for introducing him
into the landing net. If you have space for playing the fish, and are
unencumbered by bushes, &c., perseverance, patience, address, and _sang
froid_, will generally enable you to secure the largest trout.
It is difficult to give directions where to find trout in a trout
stream. I have found them in every part of the stream. Good-sized trout
often lurk near the edge under the banks, especially in narrow streams.
I always try there first. They also lie in the currents of the stream
watching for their prey. If there be any impediment in the stream, such
as a large stone, &c., which, by projecting above or near the surface
of the water, causes an increased rippling, never miss such a spot,
but throw just above the rippling, drawing the fly through it. Towards
evening trout are roaming about more freely in every part of the
stream. It is of frequent occurrence to see a trout sailing up and down
near the edge of the stream for a determinate distance. He is then in
search of food. Keep out of sight, and he will probably take your fly.
Where trout are moderately plentiful, fish every yard of water.
As a rule, _small and fine_ is the fly-fisher’s maxim. In clear, bright
water it is almost useless to use any thick-bodied fly. The smallest
and thinnest-bodied flies are preferable in clear, bright water, and
the larger in thick water, or on a windy day. You may successfully use
any of the flies I have enumerated: small for clear, bright water, and
larger for thick water or a blustering day.
The weather has an extraordinary effect on fish: I mean on their
disposition to feed. In an easterly wind trout will not rise freely;
thunder-storms they abominate; and very boisterous winds are
unfavourable, let them proceed from what quarter they may. _During_
and _after gentle showers_, with not too much wind, is the time, _par
excellence_, for beguiling trout. Avoid a very bright day, unless
there is sufficient wind to cause a strong ripple; but even then few
trout will be your reward on a very bright day. A dark day succeeding
a light night is never to be missed if you wish to fill your basket,
for trout are almost as timid in a bright moonlight night as during
the day. In such nights they will not feed freely. Should the next
day, therefore, prove gloomy, it will probably repay you for many
disappointments. In cold weather, fish only in the middle of the day:
in hot weather, morning and evening are to be preferred. The evening
is, I think, better than the morning; probably because, as trout
abstain in a great measure from feeding during the heat, they are more
eager when they recommence; and as they generally feed freely during
the night, they are less eager for food in the morning. An hour before
the disappearance of twilight, and, unless the night be _very_ dark, an
hour afterwards, will afford the best sport, and the largest fish. I
once met with a singular proof of this. I had been fishing at Colonel
Hawker’s, Long Parish, Hants, and the day being very hot and bright,
and no wind, I had bad sport. The keeper assured me, that if I waited
until dark, and then fished a certain piece of backwater he pointed
out, I should take some fine fish. Seeing by the movement of this water
a fish was upon the feed during the twilight, I cast my fly for him,
but as soon as it reached the water he was off. The keeper told me I
was too early, that the fish were large and wary, that I must wait
until it was _dark_. I did so, and putting on a large grey drake, in
less than an hour I took four fine trout, weighing upwards of three
pounds each. Although it was conveniently dark, the fish could see my
fly, but could not see me or the line, and I could perceive a rise by a
sort of bright flash in the water.
Do not allow your shadow to pass over the water if you can avoid it.
You will rarely take a trout soon afterwards at the place where your
shadow has passed over the water.
If you happen to be on the stream on a day when you have little sport,
by all means repair to the same water the next day if you have reason
to believe the trout to be moderately plentiful, and you will probably
find them feeding freely. “Trout affection not long fasts,” as dear old
Isaac would say.
Skill in fly-fishing is neutralised by anger and impatience. Patience
and perseverance stand at the head of the angler’s cardinal virtues.
With good tackle and proper-sized flies, moderate skill, and a
favourable day, the tyro will astonish the natives of the stream if he
keeps out of their sight; and if a little experience be added to the
above, he may perchance astonish himself.
However fine the weather, wear long boots, as nearly waterproof as may
be.
Frequently examine your fly to ascertain if it be in good order. I have
often hooked a good trout, which soon got away, and, upon examination
of my fly, I found the barb of the hook gone.
Take care that you do not, by a too sudden jerk, when bringing the fly
forward for a fresh cast, snap it off. This often happens to the tyro,
and sometimes to old hands. A slight, sharp, snapping noise of the
line, in bringing it forward for a cast, is a sure symptom of the loss
of the fly.
Never fish without carrying a landing net with you, or having it
carried for you. The largest fish are frequently lost for want of a
landing net, especially when you fish with small flies. If possible,
the fish should never see the landing net, nor the person who uses it.
Never allow the landing net to be _poked at_ a fish; and never touch
the line, nor allow it to be touched, whilst you have a good-sized fish
at the end of it.
Carry with you, when fishing, a disengaging instrument, which you may
screw to the butt end of the handle of your landing net, when required.
The instrument is very useful for disengaging your fly and line from
weeds, bushes, &c. It is sold in most of the fishing-tackle shops, and
is in the form below. The edge _b_ is made sufficiently sharp to cut
away weeds, bushes, &c.
[Illustration]
Always carry with you a piece of India rubber. Draw the tail line
through it before you use the line, in order to straighten it and prove
its strength; and if there are any faults in it, the India rubber will
find them out, which is far better than making the discovery by losing
a good fish from the too easy breaking of your untried tail line.
Gut is apt to snap if very dry, and I recommend immersing it in
water for ten or fifteen minutes before using it. The best method of
preserving gut that I know of is to keep it in parchment, slightly
steeped in best salad oil.
Always carry with you some strong silk and strong thread, and a piece
of shoemaker’s wax.