CHAPTER XXVII.
FLIES AND KNOTS.
It is generally considered that fly-making cannot be taught by written instruction, but this depends somewhat on the intelligence of the scholar, who must not undertake to conceive the result before he has waxed his thread, but should be content to follow the directions word by word. At all events there is something that the experienced, and an immense deal that the partially instructed beginner may add to his store of knowledge, and if the following directions will not make a novice perfect, they may aid him when he has had a few personal lessons. To tie a fly, the gut should be singed in a candle or bitten at one end, and the hook and thread waxed to insure the hook’s not coming off, which, when a fine fish has it in his mouth, is a heart-rending casualty. Take a few turns with the thread on the shank of the bare hook, nearly to the head, then applying the gut, whip it firmly on by working back to the bend; under the last turns at the bend insert whisks for the tail dubbing, floss or herl for the body, and tinsel if desired. The floss, silk and dubbing are generally spun or twisted in with the thread, and then wound back toward the shoulder, but they may be wound on before, with, or after the thread. Care must be taken that the turns at the bend be firm, and when the material is carried back, the body is finished with a couple of turns of the silk, a hackle is then introduced under them and firmly secured. Wind the hackle round the hook at the place where it is inserted, and when it is sufficiently thick, and the fibres which constitute the legs stand out well, tie it down. Prepare your wings by stripping off the requisite number of fibres, and tie them on, either single or divided, and finish off. To make a buzz-fly, that is, one with the hackles the whole length of the body instead of only at the shoulder, insert a hackle at the bend at the same time with the body and tail, and twist it round the body after that is put on, and fasten it at the shoulder. The wings are sometimes laid on pointing up the shank, and afterward bent down and brought in their places. And thus, if any one desires, he may make a fly.
Few people in this stage of civilization dress their own trout flies, and although skill in the art will enable you to make a better selection in your purchases, it is rarely useful at the riverside. The better plan is to have a great variety, keep them safe from moths by the use of a linen bag, and fish often enough to prevent the gut’s decaying. I have flies that have been in my possession for fifteen years, and yet seem to be as good as ever. You would require a knapsack to keep all the articles requisite to dress every fly, and would waste half your day in the operation. Nor is it yet settled that by imitating the natural insect you gain any advantage; one half the most skillful fishermen assert that the fly, as for instance, the scarlet ibis, need resemble nothing on earth, or in the waters under the earth, and that the sharp-sighted fish are never deceived by thinking ours the natural insect, but take him for some new and undescribed species. As for myself, to use the quaint language of the editor of the “Knickerbocker,” “sometimes I think so, and then again I don’t, but mostly I do.” On certain occasions it would seem that the closer the imitation the better, on others the less the similarity the greater the success. Upon this question my friends stand like the hackle on a well-dressed fly, “every which way.” At any rate, it is no time to be dubbing when you ought to be fishing, and if you cast a long line and a light fly and the fish will not rise, you may be sure they will not.
The various flies that appear upon the surface of the numerous and varying waters of our country, from the borders of Mexico to the confines of Labrador, would furnish the subject for an instructive and interesting work.
The natural flies, whether hatched from the caddis at the bottom of the streams, or from the burrows in the ground, or the knots on the limbs, or the cocoons amid the leaves of trees, are more numerous than those of any European country. As a class, they are larger, the ephemeræ especially, and although often found to be similar in general appearance, furnish many species unknown there. They have never been properly described and classified, and no satisfactory work has been written, at all thorough and reliable, in which an attempt is made to record their nature and habits.
Many of them do not return every year, but seem to require several seasons to mature, and the earliest fly of one season may not be that of another. Every observant fisherman has noticed flies at one time that he may not see again for a long period, and has found his imitations of them perfectly useless.
The first tree that puts forth leaves in the spring is the maple, and its buds are a bright scarlet. As they drop into and are swept along the surface of the water by the wind, the fish seize them, no doubt either decoyed by their appearance or attracted by insects that may be concealed upon or within them. The scarlet ibis resembles these buds nearer than any other known thing, and is probably mistaken by the fish for them.
When commencing this work, it had been my intention not only to describe the artificial flies in general request, but to give the habits, periods and names of the natural ones of which they were imitations, without which latter information the former would have been far from complete. But the obstacles in my way were so numerous, the confusion existing as to names, localities, and times of appearance was so utter, the difficulty of finding any satisfactory work on the natural insects so great, that I was almost in despair; on the point, however, of making the attempt, rash as it appeared, I was informed that the matter had been undertaken by a friend of mine, who is every way equal to the task. Although much relieved, there was still something to be done to give a general idea of the flies in use with us. On this subject, the only work existing of any value is the supplement to Frank Forester’s “Fish and Fishing,” written by a gentleman who is a thorough sportsman, and alongside of whom I have often had the pleasure of casting the fly. The directions in the body of that work itself, like many other parts of it, are copied from the English writers, and in our waters are utterly valueless. The author, although a splendid sportsman, was not as an angler acquainted with our trout streams and ponds, and the contributor of the supplement judged rather too exclusively from his experience on Long Island.