Trout Flies of Devon and Cornwall, and When and How to Use Them

by G. W. Soltau

The reason of the migration of sea-gulls to the land is their security of finding food. They may be observed, at this time, feeding greedily on the earth worms and larvæ, driven out of the ground by severe floods, and the fish, on which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface when storms prevail, and go deeper.

The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate, when rain is about to take place. The vulture, upon the same principle, follows armies, and there is little doubt, that the augury of the ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instinct of birds. There are many superstitions of the vulgar, owing to the same cause.

For anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see single magpies, but two may be always regarded as a favorable omen; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy weather one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the young ones; but when two go out together, the weather is warm and mild, and thus favorable to fishing.

I shall dismiss Sir H. Davie for the present, with the following remarks which he offers on the whale, as they may be interesting to those who have remarked the comparatively easy capture of an animal, possessed of such enormous strength and activity.

The whale, having no air-bladder, can sink to the lowest depths of the ocean; and mistaking the harpoon for the teeth of the sword fish or a shark, he instantly descends, this being his manner of freeing himself from these enemies, who cannot bear the pressure of a deep ocean: and from ascending and descending, in a small space, he puts himself in the power of the whaler; whereas, if he knew his force, and were to swim on the surface in a straight line, he would break or destroy the machinery by which he is arrested, as easily as a salmon breaks the single gut of a fisher, whose reel is entangled.

Mr. Scrope’s work entitled “Days and Nights of Salmon fishing,” is most interesting; his description of this enticing sport is so vivid, and given with such spirit, that even those who never saw a rod, except that in Oxford-street with a golden perch hanging from its point and for ever turning on its axis; or whose knowledge of fish is confined to the unfortunate inmates of a glass globe, are led to take a lively interest in his various piscatory adventures, and cease to wonder that some of the wisest and best of men have been enthusiastic admirers of the art. His apology for fly fishing is ingenious, and may be quoted when the angler is rallied by his tender-hearted neighbour.

“I take a little wool and feather, and tying it in a particular manner on a hook, make an imitation of a fly; then I throw it across the river, and let it sweep round the stream with a lively motion. This I have an undoubted right to do; for the river belongs to me or my friend,—but mark what follows. Up starts a monster fish, with his murderous jaws, and makes a dash at my little Andromeda. Thus he is the aggressor, not I; his intention is evidently to commit murder. He is caught in the act of putting that intention into execution. Having wantonly intruded himself on my hook, which I contend he had no right to do, he darts about in various directions, evidently surprised to find that the fly, which he hoped to make an easy conquest of, is much stronger than himself. I naturally attempt to regain this fly, unjustly withheld from me. The fish gets tired and weak, in his lawless attempts to deprive me of it. I take advantage of his weakness, I own, and drag him, somewhat loth, to the shore; where one rap at the back of the head ends him in an instant. If he is a trout, I find his stomach distended with flies. That beautiful one called the May fly, who is by nature almost ephemeral—who rises up from the bottom of the shallows, spreads its light wings, and flits in the sunbeam, in enjoyment of its new existence—no sooner descends to the surface of the water to deposit its eggs, than the unfeeling fish, at one fell spring, numbers him prematurely with the dead. You see, then, what a wretch a fish is; no ogre is more blood thirsty, for he will devour his nephews, nieces, and even his own children, when he can catch them, and I take some credit for having shown him up. What a bitter fright must the smaller fry live in! They crowd to the shallows, lie hid among the weeds, and dare not say the river is their own, I relieve them of their apprehensions, and thus become popular with the small shoals.”

I must now hasten to offer those suggestions which I deem so requisite for the attainment of that popularity to which Mr. Scrope alludes; and although I may in some respects appear tedious, I beg to assure the novice that a good day’s fishing is often lost for lack of some trifling appendage, and many a leviathan has escaped from the neglect of some simple rule.

The dress of a fisherman should be as sombre as possible—a darkish grey or lightish brown is probably the best, as these colours assimilate with that of the bark of trees, and the mosses and lichens which encrust the rocks. Shining metal buttons must be avoided. Laced boots or shoes and stout leather gaiters are needed, as vipers resort to the rivers in warm weather, and their teeth readily penetrate the unprotected stocking. By the bye, if the sportsman should unfortunately be bitten, a little carbonate of soda, or sweet oil should be applied to the part as speedily as possible. I have found the former most efficacious when my dogs have been bitten by those reptiles. Our moors abound with them in August and September; it is well therefore to be provided with a bottle of these simple antidotes, if a lengthened excursion is contemplated by the angler or shot. A drab hat is preferable to black, especially in hot weather, when the latter will be found to heat the head considerably more than the former. Worsted socks are less apt to chafe the feet than cotton, and a small portion of yellow soap rubbed on the instep and heel will keep the feet in good order during the longest day’s fag.

The next question is, what is the fitting time for adopting this costume? Fishing may be pursued from the first week in March until the last week in October. During the months of March, April, September, and October, from ten to three or four, will be found the most profitable hours; during the intervening months it is necessary, to ensure sport, to be early on the banks—from six to eleven, and from three till dusk, are generally the best hours. Before starting, be careful that your tackle is complete and in good order. The rod, the fly-book, the reel, the basket, must be examined, that nothing be left behind. It is justly considered one of the greatest miseries of life to find oneself, after a long ride or walk, minus either the above articles. These necessary appendages should be of the best quality, to ensure which, purchase them from a maker of known celebrity. In the first place, procure a twelve-foot rod, which has a uniform even play; avoid a cheap, second rate article, nine times out of ten it will be found to warp, crack, or snap off; or if it escapes these calamities, the ferrels will become loose, or the rings through which the line passes will check or chafe it at every throw. Let your reel and line be of the best workmanship, the size of the former and length of the latter the maker will inform you; the twelve-foot rod indicates a narrow river, requiring the other articles in proportion. The casting lines should be seven or even eight feet long, made of round gut, small by degrees, and beautifully less to the end, where the stream-fly is attached. They must be stained light blue, for clear; brown, for red or pale ale coloured water: our rivers are frequently of this colour, occasioned by the rain percolating through the bogs with which our moors abound. Never use more than two flies, one at the end of the collar, called the “stream-fly,” the other about three feet from it, called “the bob.” It may be as well to observe that when our rivers present the beerish appearance above described, and the day is fine, with occasional clouds, a good day’s sport may generally be depended on. The wind however must be consulted as well as the water—if the weathercock indicates any portion of East wind, relinquish the rod, and seek some other occupation. Fish have a peculiar aversion to cold wind, and will not be tempted to expose their noses within some distance of the surface; the fly, therefore, though thrown with skill and judgment, will sport on the water in profitless gambols. A Southerly wind and a cloudy sky are as welcome to the fisherman as the fox-hunter: indeed the wind in that quarter generally promises well for all field sports. West, if the weather is settled, is also good; but from W. by N. to N. by E. it becomes less and less favorable.