Tyin’ flies, talkin’ fishin’

Last week Willy Landem, my Texas fishing buddy, and his cousin “Split” Kane came over to our place for a fly-tying session. As fur and feathers were being applied to steel, the talk turned to the vagaries of fly fishing for trout. While Willy and I having been playing this game for some time, the only thing we have learned for sure is that there are no hard and fast rules. Many fly fishers spend their lives making rules for trout. The fish spend their lives breaking the rules. Young Mr. Kane, being more of a newcomer to the art of fly fishing, feels he has learned some absolutes of the game. Some may wonder where the nickname “Split” comes from. In Texas, it’s said that to ride a horse a fella needs to be split up the middle. Split Kane sure fits that description.

Split stated he believes that a trout rejects a dry fly only because there is something wrong with the size, color or shape of the fly, period. With a wink and a smile, Willy gently unhorsed the young fellow. He pointed out that it could be possible that the fish was not actually fixated on the dun stage of the hatching flies. Might not the rise form indicate this fish was feeding on nymphs floating in the surface film? Or perhaps it was seeking duns that were not fully emerged, or flies that had become crippled during the struggle to emerge from their nymphal shuck. There are always several possibilities as to why a fish may reject a dry fly that seems to be the correct size and color.

Split grumped, “You old geezers make fly fishing too complicated,” as he came to realize his theory was not quite watertight. Willy went on to point out that sometimes it is necessary to stop casting and do some observing. If you find that fully hatched duns with their wings up are floating over the fish without being taken, then showing the fish a dry fly imitation is not likely to bring success. If the “search-image” the fish is using as drifting insects approach is not that of the fully emerged dun, you need to swap horses and try an emerging pattern. Then, you possibly may be pleasantly surprised.

This discussion just proves that the following quote from “Fly Fishing: Some New Arts & Mysteries,” written in 1915 by J. C. Mottram, is exactly correct. “Of sportsmen probably the angler knows the habits of his quarry least: possibly because a great gulf separates hunter from hunted, their worlds are different. The solution, instead of coming nearer, seems, like a mirage, to keep ever receding before him as time passes by, until at last he must leave the problem unsolved, fortunately for the everlasting pleasure of those who follow.”

Next, Split proceeded to upset both Willy and the Yankee by making disparaging remarks about the casting abilities of bamboo fly rods. He crowed that he could cast into the next county using his Orvis Helios graphite fly rod. Willy quickly pointed out while that might be true, most trout are hooked within 40 feet or less from the caster. He went on to remind Split that he and his plastic cannon had not scored a single point in the last Fort Worth fly-fishers casting contest. Willy also boasted that both he and the Damn Yankee had done quite well in that contest, scoring points while using lovely bamboo fly rods.

It seems to me that fly fishers are natural born debaters. We will verbally duel about anything to do with the sport, including how many tiny Baetis mayflies can dance on an itty-bitty size-22 hook. Or the never-ending argument whether it is more pleasurable to fish with bamboo rather than graphite. En garde!

- Clem Fullerton