FLY-FISHING FOR TROUT
"The variety of rivers require different ways of angling."--IZAAK
WALTON, _The Compleat Angler_.
The art of catching fish with artificial lures in imitation of natural
insects is the most chivalric of all methods of angling.
Fish, particularly trout, often hook themselves when they seize the
fly of a fisherman using a pliant rod that will yield and spring
freely. As the game strikes, the Angler strikes, hooking the fish
swiftly but delicately by a simple turn of the wrist. The trout is not
flaunted up in the air by force, as some coarse perch fishermen lift
their catch. The trout fisher does not use his arm at all in hooking a
trout beyond aiding the hand in holding the rod for the wrist to do
the work. A practiced troutman can secure his fish by moving his hand
five inches--a little backward nervous twist of the wrist.
Trout often snap a fly and spit it out so quickly that the tyro does
not have a chance to strike and hook the prize. At other times they
take hold more slowly, and afford the beginner more opportunity to
hook them, and, as I have said, they very often hook themselves.
The beginner will have some trouble in overcoming the excitement or
"trout fever" that always accompanies the trout's rise and strike, but
experience will gradually make him more calm and active at this
important moment. The tyro trout fisher is often more frightened at
the rise of the trout than he would be at the flush of a noisy grouse
or the springing of a surprised deer.
When you have hooked the fish, always handle him as if he were but
lightly secured. Do not attempt to lift him out or yank him up to you.
Keep the line gently taut, and softly lead the prize out of rough
water or away from stones, grasses, logs, or tree branches. Do not let
him come to the surface until he is pretty well exhausted and you are
about to put him in the landing-net. If he is a large fish, tow him
ashore if the water edge will permit. Where there are overhanging
banks this cannot be done. Do not be in a hurry to get him out of the
water. Be calm and work carefully.
If the fish is large enough to overcome the reel click and run off the
line, let him do so, but check him and guide him according to any
obstruction there may be.
When he has rushed here and there for some little time with his mouth
open and with a constant check--the line should always be taut--he
will become tired, and when he is tired he will not rush. Then softly
reel him in, being careful not to let him come in contact with a stone
or weed, which is sure to arouse him again. Reel him up quickly,
without making a splashing swoop, and he will soon grace your creel.
Several persons have expressed an objection to a list of flies I once
named, saying a good Angler might kill just as many trout on quarter
the number.
Any Angler can take even less than one quarter of the enumerated list
and catch fully as many brook trout as one who might use all of the
flies mentioned--if he can pick out the ones the trout are rising to
without trying them all until he discovers the killing ones. A chef
might please his master with one or two of the forty courses billed,
if he knew what the man wanted.
Sometimes an Angler can judge the appropriate fly to use by observing
nature in seeing trout rise to the live fly; but, there are times when
trout are not rising, times when they are tired of the fly upon the
water, and times when the real fly is not on the wing. Then the Angler
is expected to take matters in his own hands and whip about quietly
until he discovers the proper patterns. It is better to try for the
right flies with a list of twenty-nine than whip over a list of a
thousand or more. I have learned from experience that trout, like
human beings, are in love with a variety of foods at different times.
Their tastes change with the months, the weeks, the days, the hours,
and, under certain conditions which I will presently explain, the
minutes.
"... fish will not bite constantly, nor every day. They have
peculiar, unexplainable moods that continuing favoring conditions of
water, wind, and weather cannot control" (Eugene McCarthy, _Familiar
Fish_).
When I mention twenty-nine different patterns as being seasonable at a
stated period, I do not mean to say that the trout will rise to them
all and at any time and under all conditions. In the first place, the
person using them might be a tyro unfamiliar with the gentle art, the
streams might be dried up, there might be an earthquake, the flies
might be too large, too coarse, and for that matter a thousand other
conditions might interfere. I fish dozens of streams in different
localities several times every month during the legal season, and I
have been a fond Angler--if not a skillful one--since my tenth
birthday. Experience on the streams, a true love for nature, and a
careful attention to my notebook enable me to separate the artificial
flies into monthly lists. No man can class them into weekly or daily
lots.
"When a fly is said to be in season it does not follow that it is
abroad on every day of its existence" (Alfred Ronalds).
The Eastern gentleman who said if he could have but one fly he would
take a yellow one, is probably a good Angler, for a yellow fly is a
fair choice. If I could have but one fly I should take a--ah! I cannot
name its color; 'tis the quaker, a cream, buff, grayish, honey-yellow
shade.
Beaverkill, Seth Green, Ashey Montreal, Dun. Wickham's Fancy, August
Brown are killing patterns in the Pennsylvania streams.
Trout change in their tastes by the month, week, day, hour, and
minute. There are flies among the list given for this or that month
that they will not rise to to-day or perhaps to-morrow, but surely
there are some among the list that will please them, and you have to
discover those particular flies, and so, as I have said before, 'tis
better to search among twenty-nine than twenty-nine hundred.
In July of a certain season I waded a stream in Pennsylvania and had
these flies with me: Quaker. Oak, Codun, Reuben Wood, White Miller,
Yellow Sallie, Hare's Ear, Iron Dun, Brown Palmer, Cahill, and a few
others. The first day I killed eighteen trout in fishing fifty yards
in a small stream running partly through a large open field and partly
through bushes, fishing from the left bank. Twelve were taken on a
brown palmer, four on a dark-gray midge, and two on a tiny
yellow-gold-brown fly. I fished three hours, in which time I received
exactly two hundred and fifteen strikes; eighteen, as I have said,
proved killing. I fished stealthily up and down the stream, hiding
here and there and making the most difficult of casts at all times. I
went up and down the little stream a half dozen times, never going
into the wood, but merely fishing from where the stream came out of
the wood to where it hid itself again beyond the field. Part of the
water I fished, as I say, was in underbush, but I did not leave the
field.
Now I am going to show you how the tastes of trout varied by minutes,
in two instances at least, and I desire you to know every little
detail. To well convince you that the casts I made were difficult, I
will say that my line became fastened in twigs, leaves, and bushes
every other toss. I had to put the flies through little openings no
larger than the creel head and take chances of getting the leader
caught while on the way, and after it was there and on its return. I
sometimes whipped twenty times at a little pool before I reached it.
There were logs, branches, mosses, cresses, leaves, and grasses to
avoid. The water in parts was swift and still, narrow, shallow, and
deep, sometimes being four feet wide and three feet deep, and then ten
feet wide and three inches deep; sometimes running smartly over bright
grasses or pebbles and light in color, and in other places lying dark
and still in pools made by logs and deep holes.
A tyro would have fished the ground in ten minutes and caught
nothing; some Anglers would have gone over it once in twenty-five
minutes and taken a half-dozen fish. I had the day to myself; I had
nowhere else to go; I was out for sport, recreation, and study,--not
fish, for I am a lover of nature in general,--and so I took three
hours at the play, and fished and observed inch by inch like a mink,
the king of trouters.
I say I had two hundred and fifteen strikes, out of which I killed
eighteen trout, and you are surprised. You think you could have done
better, much better, but I know you could not--you could not have done
as well as I did and I wish that I could put you to a test. I have
seen a _fontinalis_ rise to a small coachman twenty-six times,
snapping apparently at the feather each time, but never allowing
himself to be hooked nor hooking himself. He was playing. He was a
young trout, but an educated one, and well knew there was no danger if
he kept his wits about him. I have witnesses to this performance who
will substantiate my story, and I can easily further prove the
truthfulness of the statement by taking you to a stream where a
similar performance may be enacted. And I have seen an uneducated
trout rise and snap at a fly without taking it. The first one rose in
play, this one in curiosity--and there are trout that will rise in
anger. All of them may know the bait is not food. It is a mistake to
think that all brook trout will spurt from a fly the very second they
discover it is not real food, as it is an error to believe that all
brook trout will take the fly when they know it is the living thing.
All trout are not alike; they vary in their tastes and antics as they
do in color and size. Mind you, I speak only of one species here--the
true brook trout, _Salvelinus fontinalis_, and thus the material
should be interesting.
[Illustration: AN UNUSUAL WAY OF TAKING THE FLY]
The day I took my creel of eighteen was a fair one; we had rain the
day before; the water was clear and the stream was in ordinary
condition. The brown hackle which killed twelve of the eighteen was on
a No. 8 hook; the other two flies were tied on No. 16, as the hackle
should have been, for the fish were small and the stream was in a
small-fly condition and quite right for the daintiest leaders and the
finest midges. But the hackle seemed to please the trout; all sizes
appeared to jump at it. I hooked many that were not over three inches
long! Several times when taking my flies from the water for a new
cast, I lifted a poor little trout up in the air back of me, like the
scurvy fisherman who makes a practice of landing all his fish by
yanking them out. So you see it pays to be patient on the stream and
try all sorts of gentle tricks with _fontinalis_. You must not hurry;
you must not be coarse; you must not be careless and untidy with your
fly-book. Take your time, fish slowly, surely, and delicately. Be not
weary of the play: banish the thought of discouragement, keep at the
sport for sport alone, and study as you angle.
A little trout will rise to a fly he has missed one or more times; a
large trout will seldom do so. When you miss a big trout do not give
him back the fly for ten minutes, and then if you miss him again,
change the pattern, wait a little while, and he is once more ready for
the rise--if the new fly suits him.
I never raised a trout on the scarlet ibis fly. I believe it is a poor
color on the well-fished waters, just as I believe that all flies are
killing on wild streams. New trout will take old flies; old trout love
new ones and many old ones. Personally I like the sober colors in
flies for all seasons on all water, though I well appreciate the old
rule: "When the day is bright and where the water is clear, small
flies and plain colors; in deep and dull waters and on dark days and
in the evening the brighter and larger ones." Trout do not in all
cases show their liking to flies in accordance with any condition of
weather or water, though as a rule it is advisable to use lighter
colors when the day and water are dull, which is not saying, however,
that fish will not rise to loud flies on bright days or sober flies in
dull weather, for the tastes of trout vary like the tastes of other
living things, and nothing can equal them in erraticness when
fly-feeding.
You must give _fontinalis_ sport, for he very often strikes for play
more than food, and, like every other living thing, loves a choice of
variety.
There is an old story that if the Angler's book has a pattern of fly
in exact imitation of the real fly upon the trout water, he has but to
join it as the stretcher to fill his creel. Ogden tells us in so many
words: "Give not the trout an exact imitation of the real fly upon the
water, for your artificial fly will then be one in a thousand.
Something startling will please them better--loud gold body,
strange-colored wings--and an odd fellow may take it for sport if
nothing else."
While this is a good bit of advice, it does not seem right to me to
send it forth in such a sweeping manner. The question of whether we
should imitate nature in general fly building has long been in vogue.
Some say we should do so, and others that it does not matter. Both are
correct--there are times when we should copy the living flies, and
times when we should use those artificial things that have no
resemblance to nature's insects. I have come upon a water where the
trout were rising to the small dusky miller, and have, by putting on
the artificial fly of this order, taken a dozen beauties in good play.
It was because I arrived just in time; the trout were not tired of
their course. Perhaps twenty minutes later they would not have done
more than eyed my cast. In that case, even if the water were covered
with a species of the real fly, it would have been better to have
offered something different. Copy nature if the fish be devouring--not
alone because the fly is on the water; they may be tired of it.
Sometimes there are flies being taken that are not seen by the Angler,
for trout can snap a fly upon the wing. Fly-fishing is not an easy
pursuit; 'tis a real science. Rules are good, but we must not fail to
suit the rules to conditions.
No; you are not supposed to use the entire list, for to-day the trout
may not favor over two or three of them; to-morrow he may take six of
them--all different from those he may show a liking for to-day. It is
all very well for an Angler to take but three dozen coachmen and brown
and gray hackle for the Western trout, or any trout that is not
educated up to the standard of the trout that is fished for
incessantly, but I should not like to make a month's trouting trip and
take along only three kinds of flies, even if I had dozens of each of
the three and if my favorite quaker were one of the trio, no matter
where the stream--East. West, North, or South.
Some days after my catch of eighteen I visited the field again and
fished from the point where the stream entered the wood down to a
beautiful little waterfall. I took twenty-one of fair size--one on a
yellow Sallie, one on an oak fly, four on an Esquimaux dun, five on a
hare's ear, and nine on the quaker. This day I had ninety-three
rises--not as many as on the day I took the eighteen and had two
hundred and fifteen rises. The day was dark, the water very clear and
shallow, and there had been no rain for ten days.
This was the occasion of learning more about striking the Eastern
brook trout than I had ever before enjoyed. The old rule is to strike
on the second of the rise, and, while I do not think this electric
quickness should be practiced in all cases and under all conditions. I
found it was the rule this day, especially in the one deep pool I
found. In other places--one in particular, where I saw six of my catch
make every move in taking the flies--I found it necessary to depart
from the old rule and strike not upon the second of the rise. I very
often gave wrist too quickly. It all goes to prove that rules are not
to be exercised at all times and under all conditions. We must make
allowances. I came upon one quiet piece of water that was as clear and
still as glass; I could see every detail of the pebbles at the bottom.
Eight pretty trout were in this bed of silent water, resting without a
perceptible movement--not even that delicate wave of the tail so
common with the trout in his balancing in running water. They did not
see me; a bush hid my form. When my slender rod tip moved over the
water and the leader with the flies went down gently upon the surface,
the trout thought (all animals think) the wind had stirred the frail
branch of an adjacent tree and swept into the water upon a cobweb
three insects for their feeding. Four rushed for the deceit and two
were hooked quietly and quickly. I landed them and went away to return
to the same spot a half-hour later. Seven trout were there this time.
I flailed gently over them, but received no rushing rise; one little
fellow came up deliberately, broke water two inches behind the little
dun, and then returned to his old position. Then two others did
precisely the same as their companion had done, excepting one that
chose the oak fly for his inspection. Then they sank themselves, and a
fourth gamester spurted up to the dun and took it in his mouth much as
a sunfish would suck in a bit of worm. I struck him, and he made a
splash that nearly drove a near-by-perched catbird into hysterics, and
sent the other trout up, down, and across the stream like so many
black streaks of lightning. Now, had I cast at these fish from above
or below and not just over them, where I saw every move they made, I
should have given them wrist on the second of their rise--as I did in
the case of the first two that made the first rush--and lost any
chance of success.
No, I say, we must not always follow rules regardless of conditions.
We must not judge all trout alike, even if they be of one species.
Men, though of one race, are not all alike in their habits any more
than they are in their sizes and colors.
I found in some parts of the stream that as long as I changed the
flies I had rises; in other parts no trout took the fly, no matter how
I worked it. Perhaps there were no fish hereabout; perhaps they saw
me; perhaps they were not hungry, and perhaps there were hundreds and
thousands of other reasons why they were not to be taken in these
certain places.
No man can strictly follow rules in all cases and take trout upon
every occasion of his trials. Conditions govern, and must be
studied--conditions, conditions.