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Title: Brook and river trouting: A manual of modern north country methods
Author: Edmonds, Harfield H., Lee, Norman N.
Language: English
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TROUTING ***
[Illustration: _The Wharfe near Burnsall._
_Photo by Mr. L. A. Edmonds_]
BROOK AND RIVER
TROUTING
A Manual of modern North Country methods
With Coloured Illustrations of Flies
and Fly-Dressing Materials
By
HARFIELD H. EDMONDS
NORMAN N. LEE
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHORS, 23, BANK STREET, BRADFORD.
All rights reserved
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
PREFACE 5
CHAPTER I. Flies. Table I. Table II. Dressings 7
CHAPTER II. Fly Fishing. Wet-Fly Fishing. Dry-Fly Fishing 31
CHAPTER III. Creeper and Stone Fly Fishing 62
CHAPTER IV. Upstream Worm Fishing 69
CHAPTER V. Minnow Fishing 91
INDEX 103
ILLUSTRATIONS.
FRONTISPIECE: The Wharfe near Burnsall
Snipe’s Wing, Inner side 8
Snipe’s Wing, Outer side 8
Shades of Silk 10
Drawings of Natural Flies 12
Flies with Dressing Materials 16 et seq.
A Typical Stretch 30
Headwaters of the Aire 46
Broken Water 60
The Head of the Dale 76
A Brook in Spring 96
PREFACE.
When the writers began to take a practical interest in trout fly
dressing, they experienced great difficulty in determining the correct
feathers for the various patterns, as the older books on the subject
of North Country flies are vague in the extreme. The few more modern
writers on wet flies, for want of precision, have done little to help
the beginner to a proper appreciation of his materials. It was therefore
felt that a book, which not only prescribed the exact part of a bird from
which the correct feathers should be taken, but illustrated such feathers
and other materials (as also the flies made therefrom), in colour,
would be a help, at least to beginners in the craft, and not merely an
encumbrance on angling literature.
Having conceded the difficulties of the novice wishing to dress his own
flies, the question of the number of patterns necessary for fishing the
Rivers of the North Country naturally came next for consideration. As the
tendency during recent years has been to increase the number out of all
reason and beyond practical bounds, to the great bewilderment of the
beginner and the occasional fisherman, a list of flies has been drawn up
which, while it contains few patterns as compared with many other lists,
is yet wide enough to provide for varying conditions the season through.
The flies are for the most part old friends, but for the above reasons it
is hoped they will not be unwelcome.
The original scheme of this work was limited by the foregoing
considerations. But when the book had been mapped out in a general form
it became evident that a description of the methods employed in fishing
North Country streams with success would not only give point to what the
writers had to say on flies, but might be of interest to the majority of
North Country fishermen. It was therefore decided to enlarge the scope
of the work. The chapters on the various methods of fishing the Rivers
of the Northern Counties are the outcome of practical experience, and as
such it is hoped they will be both useful and interesting.
The authors desire to express their indebtedness to Mrs. A. R. Gurney,
Mr. L. A. Edmonds, and Mr. F. Creedy for the photographs from which
several of the river scenes have been reproduced.
H. H. E.
N. N. L.
1916.
CHAPTER I.
FLIES.
While it is the endeavour of this work to bring the range of trout flies
within reasonable and practical limits and to describe no other than
sound practical dressings, there is no desire to limit experiment either
in patterns or numbers. In fact to do so would take away one of the
pleasantest features of the pastime and rob many a winter’s evening of
its delight. All those who take an interest in fly dressing should work
from Nature wherever possible, for flies frequently differ in no small
degree in different localities; and there is a great deal of enjoyment
to be obtained in dressing a fly with the natural insect before one, and
afterwards killing trout on the resulting work of one’s hands.
It is not intended to devote any space to the processes of fly-tying, as
much has been written on the subject. The reader in search of information
cannot do better than read the late H. G. McClelland’s book, _The Trout
Fly Dresser’s Cabinet of Devices, or How to tie Flies for Trout and
Grayling Fishing_, which is the most practical and exhaustive treatise on
the subject known to the writers.
The illustrations, facing this page, of both sides of a Snipe’s wing will
show the reader the precise places from which the various wing feathers,
described in the text, are taken, and while the descriptions of the
feathers may not satisfy the naturalist, they are sufficient for the
purposes of the writers.
It is naturally of importance in fly-dressing to use no hooks but
the best, and it will be found that Hardy Bros.’ tapered snecks are
satisfactory in every respect, except that they are on the long side. If
about one-sixteenth of an inch be cut off the shank with an old pair of
scissors before dressing the fly, a more useful length will be attained,
as artificial flies are much more killing if kept short in the body.
Stress is laid on this; and it will be seen from the illustrations of the
flies that the tail ends of the bodies are not carried further down the
hook than half way between the point of the hook and the point of the
barb. For the two floating Spinners, Hardy Bros.’ Dry Fly Eyed Hooks are
recommended. The numbers of the hooks given in the text correspond with
the numbers enumerated in Hardy Bros.’ catalogue.
[Illustration: _Inner side_]
[Illustration: _Outer side_]
The writers prefer to dress their flies to gut, 4x being the most
suitable grade; but good hair, if it can be obtained, will be found
delightful to fish with, as a cast made from it falls so very lightly
on the water; and, even when the hair has become thoroughly soaked, the
droppers, unlike those tied to gut, have no tendency to twist round the
cast, but stand well out from it.
The most satisfactory tying silk is Pearsall’s “Gossamer,” which is
standardized in shades. A shade card is illustrated and the numbers
appearing after the various silks mentioned in the text correspond with
the numbers above the various shades illustrated.
In dressing the flies the silk is in all cases waxed with transparent
wax; and, where it is stated that such and such a silk is to be well
waxed, the result should be a shade or two darker than an ordinary waxing
would give.
In the dressings of most of the winged flies it is laid down that either
the outer side or the inner side of the quill feather used should in
the finished article appear as the “under side” of the wing of the
artificial. The reader will easily understand which is the “under side”
of the wing of the artificial if he remembers that it is that side of the
wing which would touch the water if the fly were “spent” and floating
thereon.
Although the primary quill feathers are almost exclusively recommended
for the wings of most of the winged patterns, the secondaries will often
do equally well.
The correct shade of dubbing for the bodies of flies, where coloured
dubbing is specified, can often be obtained to most advantage by a
mixture of two or more shades. For instance, the dubbing for the Winter
Brown is a mixture of brown and maroon wool, while the dubbing for the
Green Insect is a mixture of green and yellow wool.
The silks forming the heads of the various flies are of the same shade as
the respective silks used for the bodies unless otherwise stated; and it
should be borne in mind that the flies, particularly the hackle patterns,
must be dressed lightly, if one of the most distinctive features of the
North Country patterns is to be preserved. In copying from Nature let the
imitation err on the small side if anything.
No attempt has been made to reproduce in the coloured plates either gold
or silver wire or tinsel.
When the river is “coloured,” flies dressed a size larger than those
employed under normal conditions can be used with advantage.
Although the seasons for the various flies are given, they are
approximate only, as districts frequently vary one from another, and the
lateness or otherwise of a season naturally has an effect on the hatch,
just as it has on the roses in gardens. Often the March Brown can be
seen in the latter part of May, and sometimes a particular fly, for no
apparent reason, will remain on the water for a longer time than usual.
The necessity of careful observation cannot therefore be too strongly
impressed, as observation will teach far more than all the books that
were ever written.
[Illustration: _Shades of Silk._]
The form of wing specified for the Spinners is recommended to the
attention of the reader, as being a most practical form of wing for any
winged pattern, wet or dry, where transparency is the primary object. To
the writers it seems an improvement on the hackle points now so popular
for many flies, as it is free from the objectionable and comparatively
thick midrib of the latter and it is a harder wearing dressing than the
older form. The development to which such newer form of wing lends itself
for other patterns than the Spinners mentioned in the list at pages 24,
26 and 30 may be noted, and the field which is open for experiment will
be evident to the reader.
Under the name of each fly, in giving its dressing, the name of the order
or family to which the natural insect as represented by the artificial
belongs will be found, and opposite page 12 reproductions of typical
examples of each of the orders or families of natural insects mentioned
will be found, with the exception of the Ant and Green Insect. The latter
are so well known as to need no illustration. The beginner will therefore
have an idea of the fly he is copying and perhaps be able to identify
it at the stream side. It must not be forgotten however that certain
patterns represent more than one species of fly.
It has been the good fortune of the writers to fish on many waters; and
while the Winter Brown has often given them the first thrill of the
season, and the Green Insect accounted for fish when September gusts
have strewn the river with leaves and green fly, they hope they have
not grown dogmatic in their views and opinions on matters piscatorial.
Nevertheless they are inclined to think that, the closer they keep in
shade and colour in their patterns to the natural flies, the greater
has been their success; for, although they can recall occasions on
which the fish would rise at almost anything, such occasions have been
few and far apart; while the times when the trout would only look at a
particular fly of a particular shade have been by far the more frequent
in their experience. Why deny fish the power to appreciate variations
of shade when they live in a world of colours, and are clothed in such
a beautiful and vari-coloured mail? If trout can appreciate tones of
colour, how different a fly must appear to them in different lights and
with different backgrounds. Such natural variations of surrounding light
and landscape may have a larger effect on “the bag” than many think.
For easy reference two tables of flies are given. One, in which are set
down the flies in the order in which they may generally be fished through
the season, with the approximate times of their use, and the other, with
the flies tabled under the various trout fishing months.
It remains only to add, that the taking fly should be fished as point,
_i.e._, the fly farthest from the angler.
[Illustration: _Natural Flies of the Orders & Families named_]
TABLE I.
1. Winter Brown March to middle of April.
2. Waterhen Bloa March to end of April and again in September.
3. Greenwell’s Glory March to first week in May and again in
September.
4. Spring Black March and early April.
5. Dark Snipe March to middle of April and again in
September.
6. Orange Partridge March to middle of May.
7. Broughton’s Point March to middle of April.
8. March Brown April and often May.
9. Light Snipe Middle of April to middle of May and again
in September.
10. Dark Needle Middle of April to end of June and again
in September.
11. Brown Owl Latter part of April to end of June.
12. Olive Bloa Latter part of April and throughout May.
13. Dark Watchet Last week in April and throughout May and
sometimes early June.
14. Yellow Partridge May to middle of June.
15. Light Needle May, June and July.
16. Yellow-Legged Bloa May to end of June.
17. Dotterel Middle of May to end of Season.
18. Poult Bloa Middle of May to middle of July.
19. Gravel Bed Middle of May to end of June.
20. Stone Midge Middle of May to end of June.
21. Knotted Midge Middle of May to end of July.
22. Black Gnat Middle of May to end of August.
23. Ginger Spinner (Wet) June, July and August.
24. Dark Sedge Middle of June to the end of the Season.
25. Light Sedge Middle of June to the end of the Season.
26. Red Spinner (Wet) July, August and September.
27. July Dun July and August.
28. Rough-Bodied Poult July, August and September.
29. Pale Watery Dun Middle of July to the end of September.
30. Light Silverhorns Middle of July to the end of August.
31. Dark Silverhorns Middle of July to the end of August.
32. August Dun Last week in July, August and September.
33. Ant August to second week in September.
34. Green Insect August and September.
35. Ginger Spinner (Dry) June, July and August.
36. Red Spinner (Dry) July, August and September.
TABLE II.
MARCH.
Winter Brown.
Waterhen Bloa.
Greenwell’s Glory.
Spring Black.
Dark Snipe.
Orange Partridge.
Broughton’s Point.
APRIL.
Winter Brown.
Waterhen Bloa.
Greenwell’s Glory.
Spring Black.
Dark Snipe.
Orange Partridge.
Broughton’s Point.
March Brown.
Light Snipe.
Dark Needle.
Brown Owl.
Olive Bloa.
Dark Watchet.
MAY.
Greenwell’s Glory.
Orange Partridge.
March Brown.
Light Snipe.
Dark Needle.
Brown Owl.
Olive Bloa.
Dark Watchet.
Yellow Partridge.
Light Needle.
Yellow-Legged Bloa.
Dotterel.
Poult Bloa.
Gravel Bed.
Stone Midge.
Knotted Midge.
Black Gnat.
JUNE.
Dark Needle.
Brown Owl.
Dark Watchet.
Yellow Partridge.
Light Needle.
Yellow-Legged Bloa.
Dotterel.
Poult Bloa.
Gravel Bed.
Stone Midge.
Knotted Midge.
Black Gnat.
Ginger Spinner (Wet and Dry).
Dark Sedge.
Light Sedge.
JULY.
Light Needle.
Dotterel.
Poult Bloa.
Knotted Midge.
Black Gnat.
Ginger Spinner (Wet and Dry).
Dark Sedge.
Light Sedge.
Red Spinner (Wet and Dry).
July Dun.
Rough-Bodied Poult.
Pale Watery Dun.
Light Silverhorns.
Dark Silverhorns.
August Dun.
AUGUST.
Dotterel.
Black Gnat.
Ginger Spinner (Wet and Dry).
Dark Sedge.
Light Sedge.
Red Spinner (Wet and Dry).
July Dun.
Rough-bodied Poult.
Pale Watery Dun.
Light Silverhorns.
Dark Silverhorns.
August Dun.
Ant.
Green Insect.
SEPTEMBER.
Waterhen Bloa.
Greenwell’s Glory.
Dark Snipe.
Light Snipe.
Dark Needle.
Dotterel.
Dark Sedge.
Light Sedge.
Red Spinner (Wet and Dry).
Rough-bodied Poult.
Pale Watery Dun.
August Dun.
Ant.
Green Insect.
DRESSINGS.
WET FLIES.
No. 1.
WINTER BROWN.
PERLIDÆ
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—Hackled with a greyish feather, barred, from the under
coverts of a Woodcock’s wing. (The lighter side of the feather
towards the head of the fly).
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a, dubbed with ruddy brown wool, the
three turns next the tail showing distinct orange.
HEAD.—Bronze Peacock herl.
March to middle of April.
No. 2.
WATERHEN BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—Hackled with a smoky grey feather from the under coverts
of a Waterhen’s wing. (The darker side of the feather towards
the head of the fly).
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with Mole’s fur.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
March to end of April, and again in September.
No. 3.
GREENWELL’S GLORY.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—From a hen Blackbird’s primary quill feather, bunched
and split.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, well waxed, ribbed with four turns of
fine gold wire or tinsel.
LEGS.—Cochybondu Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Yellow silk, well waxed.
March to first week in May, and again in September, although, by dressing
with a lighter wing, body and hackle, the fly can be used during the
intervening months.
No. 4.
SPRING BLACK.
DIPTERA (GNAT).
Hook 0.
WINGS.—Hackled with a black Cock’s hackle or a blue black
feather from an adult Starling’s neck.
BODY.—Purple silk, No. 8, dubbed sparingly with Magpie herl.
HEAD.—Purple silk.
March and early April.
[Illustration: 1 2 3 4]
No. 5.
DARK SNIPE OR SNIPE AND PURPLE.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with the dark feather from the marginal coverts
of a Snipe’s wing.
BODY.—Purple silk, No. 8.
HEAD.—Purple silk.
March to middle of April, and again in September.
No. 6.
ORANGE PARTRIDGE.
PERLIDÆ AND EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a brown mottled (not barred) feather from a
Partridge’s neck, or back.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a, or orange silk, No. 6a, ribbed with
about four turns of gold wire or tinsel.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
March to middle of May.
No. 7.
BROUGHTON’S POINT OR DARK BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—From a Starling’s primary quill feather, the outer side
of the feather as the under side of the wing.
BODY.—Claret silk, No. 13.
LEGS.—A black Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Claret silk.
March to middle of April.
No. 8a.
MARCH BROWN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 2 or 3.
WINGS.—From a quill feather from a Partridge’s tail, greyish in
tone, the top side of the feather as the under side of the wing.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a, dubbed with sandy fur taken from
near the base of a Hare’s ear and ribbed with yellow silk, No.
4.
TAIL.—Two strands from a Partridge’s tail, same feather as the
one used for the wings.
LEGS.—Greyish brown feather from a Partridge’s back.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
April and often May.
[Illustration: 5 6 7 8A]
No. 8b.
MARCH BROWN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 2 or 3.
WINGS.—Hackled with a mottled brown feather from a Snipe’s rump.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a, dubbed with fur from the nape of a
Rabbit’s neck which has been lightly tinged red with Crawshaw’s
Red Spinner dye, and ribbed with gold wire or tinsel.
TAIL.—Two strands from a feather from a Snipe’s rump, same
feather as is used for the wings.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
April, and often May.
No. 9.
LIGHT SNIPE OR SNIPE BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a bluish feather from the under coverts of
a Snipe’s wing. (The lighter side of the feather towards the
head of the fly).
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
Middle of April to middle of May, and again in September.
No. 10.
DARK NEEDLE.
PERLIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a brownish feather taken from where the
hinder part of a Starling’s wing joins the body, (There are
only about four of these feathers on each side of the bird.) or
with a brownish feather from the back of a Swift.
BODY.—Orange brown silk, No. 6b.
HEAD.—Magpie herl.
Middle of April to the end of June, and again in September.
No. 11.
BROWN OWL.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a reddish brown feather from the lesser
coverts of a Tawny or Brown Owl’s wing.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a.
HEAD.—Bronze Peacock herl.
Latter part of April to end of June.
[Illustration: 8B 9 10 11]
No. 12.
OLIVE BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with an olive green feather from a Green
Plover’s neck.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, well waxed.
HEAD.—Orange brown silk, No. 6b.
Latter part of April and throughout May.
No. 13a.
DARK WATCHET OR IRON BLUE DUN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 00.
WINGS.—Hackled with a dark smoky blue feather from a Jackdaw’s
throat.
BODY.—Orange and purple silk, Nos. 6a and 8, twisted together,
dubbed very sparingly with Mole’s fur and wound on the body so
that the orange and purple show in alternate bands.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
Last week in April and throughout May, and sometimes early June.
Particularly for dull days.
No. 13b.
DARK WATCHET OR IRON BLUE DUN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 00.
WINGS.—From the darkish blue feather from a Blue Tit’s tail,
bunched and split.
BODY.—Same as No. 13a.
TAIL.—Two strands from a medium grizzled blue Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Feather from a young Starling’s thigh or flank.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
Last week in April and throughout May, and sometimes early June. For
brighter days.
No. 14.
YELLOW PARTRIDGE.
PERLIDÆ AND DIPTERA (CRANE-FLY).
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a greyish feather barely tinged with brown,
from a Partridge’s back.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
May to middle of June.
[Illustration: 12 13A 13B 14]
No. 15.
LIGHT NEEDLE.
PERLIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a feather from a young Starling’s thigh or
flank.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6a.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
May, June and July.
No. 16.
YELLOW-LEGGED BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—From a young Starling’s light primary quill feather, the
outer side of the feather as the under side of the wing.
BODY.—Primrose yellow silk, No. 3.
TAIL.—Two strands from a very pale ginger Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—A Cock’s hackle dyed a rich primrose yellow.
HEAD.—Primrose yellow silk.
May to end of June.
No. 17.
DOTTEREL.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light-tipped fawnish feather from the
marginal coverts or lesser coverts of a Dotterel’s wing.
BODY.—Orange silk, No. 6, or primrose yellow silk, No. 3.
HEAD.—Orange silk, or primrose yellow silk.
If the Dotterel feather is unobtainable a feather from the under coverts
of a young Starling’s wing makes a fair substitute.
Middle of May to end of Season.
No. 18.
POULT BLOA.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light blue feather from the under coverts
of a young Grouse wing, taken before the bird is strong on the
wing. (The lighter side of the feather towards the head of the
fly.) This feather darkens very rapidly on the live bird from
August onwards.
BODY.—Primrose yellow silk, No. 3.
HEAD.—Primrose yellow silk.
Middle of May to middle of July.
[Illustration: 15 16 17 18]
No. 19.
GRAVEL BED.
DIPTERA (Crane-fly).
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a greyish feather, lightly tinged with
brown, from a Partridge’s neck.
BODY.—Blue silk, No. 7, dubbed with blue-grey fur from the
flank of an Opossum.
HEAD.—Blue silk.
Middle of May to end of June. A useful fly in a coloured water.
No. 20.
STONE MIDGE.
DIPTERA (Gnat).
Hook 0 or 00.
WINGS.—Hackled with an olive green feather from a Green
Plover’s neck.
BODY.—Grey silk, No. 9a, well waxed, or ash-coloured silk, No.
10, but in both cases dubbed sparingly with bluey-grey Heron
herl.
HEAD.—Magpie herl.
Middle of May to end of June.
No. 21.
KNOTTED MIDGE.
DIPTERA (Gnat).
Hook 0 or 00.
WINGS.—Hackled down the body “palmerwise” with a small black
Cock’s hackle.
BODY.—Ash-coloured silk, No. 10, dubbed with dark Heron herl.
HEAD.—Magpie herl.
Middle of May to end of July.
For close days.
No. 22.
BLACK GNAT.
DIPTERA (Gnat).
Hook 00.
WINGS.—A few fibres from a light blue Hen’s hackle put on as a
single wing.
BODY.—Black silk, No. 9.
LEGS.—Rusty black Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Black silk.
Middle of May to end of August.
For close days.
[Illustration: 19 20 21 22]
No. 23.
GINGER SPINNER.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—Fibres of light grizzled blue Cock’s hackle.
BODY.—Flat gold wire with a wrapping over it of orange silk,
No. 6, the silk to be untwisted and only one or two strands
used.
TAIL.—Two strands from a ginger Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Ginger Cock’s hackle.
HEAD.—Orange silk.
June, July and August.
No. 24.
DARK SEDGE.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—Hackled with a reddish brown feather from the lesser
coverts of a Tawny or Brown Owl’s wing.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with brownish fawn Seal’s fur.
HEAD.—Brownish green herl from the tail of a cock Pheasant.
Middle of June to end of the Season.
No. 25a.
LIGHT SEDGE.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light-barred reddish feather, from the
lesser coverts of a Landrail’s wing.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with reddish fur from the
thigh of a Squirrel.
HEAD.—A reddish herl from the tail of a cock Pheasant.
Middle of June to the end of the Season.
No. 25b.
LIGHT SEDGE.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1 or 2.
WINGS.—From a light barred reddish feather, from the lesser
coverts of a Landrail’s wing (a larger feather than the one
used for No. 25a), the outer side of the feather as the outside
of the wing. Wings put on “penthouse” fashion.
BODY.—Same as No. 25a.
LEGS.—Reddish feather from the marginal coverts of a Landrail’s
wing.
HEAD.—Same as No. 25a.
Middle of June to the end of the Season.
[Illustration: 23 24 25A 25B]
No. 26.
RED SPINNER.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—Fibres of medium grizzled blue Cock’s hackle.
BODY.—Red silk, No. 12, dubbed with maroon wool and ribbed with
four turns of fine gold wire or tinsel.
TAIL.—Two strands from a deep red Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Deep red Cock’s hackle.
HEAD.—Red silk.
July, August and September.
No. 27.
JULY DUN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—From a Coot’s primary quill feather, the outer side of
the feather as the under side of the wing.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed sparingly with Mole’s fur.
TAIL.—Two strands from a medium olive Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Medium olive Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
July and August.
No. 28.
ROUGH-BODIED POULT.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light blue feather from the under coverts
of a young Grouse wing, taken before the bird is strong on the
wing. (The lighter side of the feather towards the head of the
fly.) This feather darkens very rapidly on the live bird from
August onwards.
BODY.—Straw-coloured silk, No. 2, dubbed sparingly with buff
fur from the flank of an Opossum.
HEAD.—Straw-coloured silk.
July, August and September.
No. 29.
PALE WATERY DUN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1.
WINGS.—From a young Starling’s light primary quill feather, the
inner side of the feather as the under side of the wing.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with palest buff fur from the
flank of an Oppossum.
TAIL.—Two strands from palest ginger Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Light blue Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
Middle of July to the end of September.
[Illustration: 26 27 28 29]
No. 30.
LIGHT SILVERHORNS.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—From a Thrush’s secondary quill feather, the outer
side of the feather as the outside of the wing, or from a
Landrail’s primary quill feather, the outer side of the
feather as the outside of the wing. Wings put on “penthouse”
fashion.
BODY.—Ash-coloured silk, No. 10, sparingly dubbed with reddish
grey fur from the thigh of a Squirrel.
LEGS.—Feather from a young Starling’s thigh or flank.
HEAD.—Ash-coloured silk.
ANTENNÆ.—Two strands from a black and white feather from a
Mallard’s breast.
Middle of July to the end of August.
No. 31.
DARK SILVERHORNS.
TRICHOPTERA.
Hook 1.
WINGS.—From a Waterhen’s primary quill feather, the outer
side of the feather as the outside of the wing. Wings put on
“penthouse” fashion.
BODY.—Black silk, No. 9, dubbed very sparingly with Mole’s fur
and ribbed with olive silk, No. 11.
LEGS.—Black Cock’s hackle or Green Plover’s topping.
HEAD.—Black silk.
ANTENNÆ.—Two strands from a black and white feather from a
Mallard’s breast.
Middle of July to the end of August.
No. 32.
AUGUST DUN.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 2.
WINGS.—From a Mallard’s breast feather, lightly tinged with
brown.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with yellow olive wool and
ribbed with orange silk, No. 6, sparingly spun with fur from
the nape of a Rabbit’s neck which has been lightly tinged red
with Crawshaw’s Red Spinner dye.
TAIL.—Two strands from a medium olive Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Medium olive Hen’s hackle.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
Last week in July, August and September.
No. 33.
ANT.
HYMENOPTERA.
Hook 0.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light blue Hen’s hackle.
BODY.—Orange brown silk, No. 6b, dressed full at the tail with
bronze Peacock herl, then a few turns of the silk towards the
head, then dressed full at the shoulder with bronze Peacock
herl.
HEAD.—Orange brown silk.
August to second week in September.
[Illustration: 30 31 32 33]
No. 34.
GREEN INSECT.
APHIDES.
Hook 00 or 000.
WINGS.—Hackled with a light blue Cock’s hackle.
BODY.—Yellow silk, No. 4, dubbed with bright green olive wool.
HEAD.—Yellow silk.
August and September. Particularly on gusty days.
DRY FLIES.
No. 35.
GINGER SPINNER.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1, eyed.
WINGS.—Fibres of light grizzled blue Cock’s hackle dressed
“spent.”
BODY.—Light cinnamon quill.
TAIL.—Two strands from a ginger Cock’s hackle.
LEGS.—Ginger Cock’s hackle, two turns at the most, as the fly
must be dressed lightly.
HEAD.—Orange silk, No. 6.
June, July and August.
No. 36.
RED SPINNER.
EPHEMERIDÆ.
Hook 0 or 1, eyed.
WINGS.—Fibres of medium grizzled blue Cock’s hackle dressed
“spent.”
BODY.—Red quill.
TAIL.—Two strands of Gallina, dyed red brown.
LEGS.—Deep red Cock’s hackle, two turns at the most, as the fly
must be dressed lightly.
HEAD.—Red silk, No. 12.
July, August and September.
[Illustration: 34 35 36]
[Illustration: _A Typical Stretch_
_Photo by Mrs. A. R. Gurney_]
CHAPTER II.
FLY FISHING.
So much has already been written on fly fishing by men of wide and varied
experience, that it is with no little diffidence the writers approach
the subject. Yet the more thoroughly the whole art of trout fishing is
explored, the more engrossing does it become, and, as experience is
gained, the more evident it appears that little is really known and that
a vast field still remains open for investigation.
It is not intended to try in this chapter to teach the art of fly
fishing, as more can be learned by observation, perseverance and practice
on the river, than by reading all that was ever written on the subject;
but it is desired, by emphasizing a few essential points, to help the
novice through his initial difficulties.
Some anglers who are only able to devote a few weeks during the season
to their pastime are content to go to the local tackle dealer or the
professional fisherman and to rely entirely on his advice. While it is
always well to consult the “local men”—quaint characters for the most
part and many of them cobblers by trade—it is often a mistake to rely
entirely upon them; for, if a man’s ambition be to get out of the rut and
to kill fish under difficult conditions, he must think for himself.
The “local man” often has a strong partiality for certain patterns of
flies, no matter what the conditions. Only recently the writers came
across a most glaring example of this particular tendency, which is
perhaps worth mentioning in order to illustrate their point. Arriving
at the river one September afternoon, they noticed on the opposite bank
the local professional, who is held in very high esteem as a fisherman.
He certainly casts as neat a line as the writers have ever seen thrown.
In answer to their enquiry, “What sport?”, they received the reply, “A
few,” and were more than a little astonished to learn that he was using
flies which, in their opinion, were more suitable for the end of July. It
is always a pleasure to see this man cast, so they sat down and watched
him. Time after time he put his flies in the most beautiful manner over
rising fish, but without result, although the water was coloured and the
fish continued to rise steadily. Soon one showed within casting distance
of the bank on which the writers were seated, so a fly was immediately
put over him and was accepted at the first offer. Earlier that day there
had been a large hatch of Dark Needles, and it was an imitation of that
insect which induced the rise. Alternately the writers threw over rising
fish with more or less success; but the professional, who persevered for
another half-hour without changing his flies, at last gave up in disgust.
For the time being at least he was beaten. Not that he did not know the
river or understand the habits of the trout—both were to him as an open
book—but simply because he was deficient in his knowledge of insect life.
This man probably knew some ten or a dozen good all-round flies which he
used the season through, but without due regard to the hatch of natural
insects.
Now put yourself in the professional’s position on that particular day,
only add to his knowledge that of insect life. On finding your flies
rejected, you would have picked from off the water, and examined, the
natural insects which were floating down; then, immediately realizing
what was amiss, you would have substituted an imitation of the taking
fly for one on your cast. Success would have followed failure, and a
light-hearted angler would have tramped homewards at sunset with a creel
the heavier for his practical knowledge.
From the foregoing it will be gathered that the novice should make it his
first duty to study on every possible occasion the insect life of the
river he is going to fish, and not merely rely upon the tackle dealer
or professional to supply his deficiency in this, or indeed in other
matters. By this let it not be thought that the writers consider it
necessary to go deeply into the study of entomology, fascinating as that
study is; but if the greatest amount of pleasure is to be derived, and
incidentally a fair number of fish to be killed, it is essential that the
angler should arm himself with a good general knowledge of river insect
life.
A great deal in this direction can be learned by an occasional emptying
of a trout’s stomach into a glass of water, and an examination of the
_débris_ after they have been separated by a brisk stir round. It is
most instructive, and it shows how catholic fish are in their feeding.
It shows too, not infrequently, the reasons for a poor day’s sport, and
often gives a hint which may turn failure into success on some future
occasion.
Though a knowledge of insect life is highly important, it is equally
necessary to learn to adapt oneself to varying conditions.
This latter point may at the first glance appear unnecessarily
elementary, so much so as to seem hardly worth making, but speaking from
personal experience, the writers think that, probably on account of its
very obviousness, it often receives far less attention than it deserves.
How many anglers, after working the long winter through begin, as the
trout season draws near, to let their thoughts wander to some favourite
stream and live for days, aye, almost weeks, in anticipation of the
opening day? They conjure up in their minds all the details that have
gone to make up some red-letter day in the past, the whole scene comes
up as fresh as ever, and memory, ever willing, gives them a most vivid
picture of the pool in which the fish of the season put up his last
gallant struggle. They recall those exciting moments when the strength
of the cast was taxed to its utmost as the fish wildly endeavoured to
reach the roots of an overhanging tree, and the joyful feeling of power
that crept over them when at last the lusty trout, having somewhat spent
himself, allowed them to regain a foot or two of line. Then came that
last mad rush when the captive perceived the net.
These memories are happy indeed, though often enough they lead one
astray, as, when the eve of the opening day arrives, one has probably
definitely decided to begin operations at the exact pool that was the
scene of one’s former success. Is this adapting oneself to circumstances?
It can hardly be so, and yet probably very few can say that they have
never fallen a victim to such foolishness.
The wise man waits until the morrow, when he can see how the wind strikes
his favourite stream or reach, whether the water is too high or too low,
and whether the sport that it normally might be expected to yield is
going to be adversely affected by any other condition. If so, even though
disappointed, he will find a more suitable place at which to begin and
no doubt at the end of the day his creel will reveal the reward of his
adaptability to circumstance.
The consideration of adaptability to circumstance naturally brings one
to a classification and subsequent subdivision of the methods of fly
fishing, which methods, judiciously and intelligently combined, make for
the true road to success.
Fly fishing may be practised in two principal ways, with the wet fly and
with the dry fly.
In the former, as the name implies, the flies are fished slightly
submerged; and three or sometimes four flies may be used on the cast.
They are placed some 20 inches or so apart, but varied as to distance
according to the state of the river, greater distance between them being
necessary, and fewer flies being used, in low clear water. In dry-fly
fishing, as perhaps it is unnecessary to state, only one fly is used, and
it is made to float by being whipped through the air after each cast,
so as to shake off any globules of water that may be attached to the
feathers, a process which is generally assisted by the fly being lightly
touched with oil before use.
Before going further it is as well to say a few words regarding the rod
and tackle. The length of rod the writers find most useful is 10 ft. 6
ins., and, if it is to be used for wet-fly fishing exclusively, they
would unhesitatingly recommend a two-piece rod made of greenheart, or of
hickory for the butt, with greenheart top, not too whippy and not too
stiff. Such a rod is softer in the action and less tiring to the wrist
than one made of split cane. That is a matter well worth consideration
when one is whipping the stream for long periods at a stretch.
For dry-fly fishing however, and general use, and for almost unending
wear, a split-cane rod by one of the first-class makers will probably
best suit the requirements of the average man; only in selecting the rod,
of whatever pattern, great care should be devoted to getting one which,
with reel and line attached, will make a harmonious whole. If the rod
be a split cane, it should be rather more whippy than the average type
in use on Chalk streams. These points should be carefully attended to,
otherwise the beginner, after working for an hour or so, will find his
wrist growing tired, and he will then get into a slovenly way of casting,
which is easier to learn than to unlearn.
Regarding the reel, line and cast, we should recommend, if the reader is
buying his rod from a man of practical experience, that he leaves the
first two to the maker’s discretion. He will then no doubt get both reel
and line of suitable weight for the rod. The cast should be approximately
three yards, tapered, the last yard being of finest drawn gut for
ordinary waters, but a coarser cast may be used when fishing a full or
slightly coloured water. A good cast for ordinary waters can be made
of ten strands of gut, each strand either 12 or 14 inches in length and
tapered as follows:—First two strands of Quarter drawn, then two strands
of Half drawn, then three strands of 2x, and finally three strands of 4x.
WET-FLY FISHING.
It is with wet-fly fishing that it is proposed to deal first, as this
method is by far the more important on the majority of North Country
rivers, the dry fly being a useful auxiliary under conditions to be
detailed later.
Why, it may be asked, should the fish be more partial to the wet fly than
to the dry fly on Northern streams. The reason is not far to seek; for,
owing to the roughness and rapidity of such rivers, a large percentage
of insects, as they rise from the bed of the river preparatory to
hatching out, are carried many yards downstream before they reach the
surface of the water. Others, getting into rough water, find themselves
unequal to the effort of emerging from their nymphal case, or emerge with
wetted and helpless wings, while many flies, surviving these natural
difficulties, are carried down some rapid almost immediately after they
reach the perfect state, and get water-logged before ever they have the
opportunity of using their wings. Hence the trout become used to taking
much of their insect food in a submerged or partially submerged state.
Therefore so long as those streams remain as heretofore, the wet fly is
likely to continue to hold the premier position in the filling of a North
Countryman’s creel.
There are two methods of fishing the wet fly, upstream and downstream.
Follows an attempt to give a brief outline of how and when each method
may be used to the best advantage.
The use of the word “downstream” in this connection is, perhaps, somewhat
misleading, for it is not intended to refer to that method of fishing
in which the angler casts his flies across and downstream, allowing the
current to sweep them round to a point below him, in the same manner as
when fishing the salmon fly. To fish an imitation of a natural insect in
such a way as to make it resist the onward flow of the water in a most
unnatural manner, is, in the writers’ judgment, unsound, and they wish it
to be understood that, by “downstream,” they do not allude to this manner
of fishing.
The downstream method advocated might quite appropriately be termed
across-stream fishing, as the angler faces the bank towards which he
purposes fishing, casts across and slightly upstream, then allows the
flies to be carried without drag till they reach a point a few yards
below where they alighted upon the water. Wading downstream a yard or
more, he repeats the cast, until the whole stream has been worked in
this manner. The only reason for the term “downstream” being used in
connection with this class of fishing is that the angler himself works
down the river.
The next question for consideration is, when is downstream fishing
advisable? It may truly be answered, “Not often,” for its practice might
be confined to strong and full waters, to waters tinged with colour,
to cold Spring days before and after the hatch, to evening fishing in
such places as have the river flowing towards the sunset, and, lastly,
to occasions when a heavy downstream wind or the nature of the country
leaves the angler no choice.
The enthusiast frequently finds himself on the river bank on a Spring
morning long before the sun’s rays have warmed the air, or any sign of
insect life is visible. With experience he will find that at such times
the trout are not in the heavy rapid streams, but may be looked for in
steady flowing water.
A favourite place, which the writers would never pass by on such an
occasion, is formed when a stream some two feet deep flows gently along
the edge of a bank, and particularly if the bank be overhung, or other
natural causes make it a harbour or refuge for the stream’s inhabitants.
Let the novice who finds himself, cold Spring weather prevailing, at the
top of such a stream, cast in the manner described across, but slightly
upstream, towards such bank. As the flies are carried down, let him
vibrate the point of his rod slightly by an up and down motion in order
to make his flies appear as though they were struggling to reach the
surface of the water. Ten to one before the stream is fished out a sharp
pluck will be felt, but the beginner, unprepared, will in many cases
leave his fly in the fish or miss him altogether. The hooking of trout
under such conditions is difficult in the extreme, as frequently no rise
is seen; and it is only by perseverance, leading to appreciation of the
moment to strike, that he can hope to succeed.
To teach in theory the correct method and timing of the strike under such
conditions, is beyond the writers. The knowledge seems to come to the
persevering almost as a sixth sense. At times it is positively uncanny to
watch an “artist,” in his instinctive response to the rises of fish under
the conditions described, for they are totally invisible to the average
man.
Practice, coupled with intelligent reasoning out of the whys and
wherefores of success and failure, will do more to help the novice than
anything else. But, even with the rod in the hands of a past-master, this
method of downstream fishing will not always succeed, though the waiting
hour before the rise may often be well spent in giving these tactics a
trial.
As soon, however, as the first insects floating on the surface have been
noticed by the fish, the time has come to change methods and to fish
upstream.
Upstream fishing is far more difficult than downstream fishing, and the
initial efforts will prove disheartening. Rise after rise will be missed,
and the flies will be swept to the feet of the angler almost before he
has seen where they lit. It is nevertheless all important that the novice
should school himself in this branch of fly fishing beyond any other, as
upon it will depend his future success.
The education of the angler who has only mastered downstream fishing,
or even dry-fly fishing, is incomplete; and, though the dry-fly purist
may shrug his shoulders at the remark, it is not too much to say that,
if he were transferred from the pellucid waters of the Chalk stream to
some rapid broken river of the North, and were to endeavour to fish the
wet fly, it would be some considerable time before he achieved any great
success. Whereas the man who has once thoroughly mastered the art of
fishing the wet fly _upstream_ would be able quickly to adapt himself to
the conditions and surroundings of the home of the dry fly.
Scoffers have often termed wet-fly fishing in general the “chuck and
chance it” method, but those who thus described it can never have seen
an expert at work fishing upstream. There is no such thing as “chuck
and chance it” in the way he throws his flies. Every cast is made to a
definite point, not necessarily to a rising fish, as in dry-fly fishing,
but successively to each of the many little runs, eddies, channels, and
slack waters behind boulders, which his experience teaches are likely
to hold feeding fish. It is just the experience gained by such definite
fishing that the dry-fly purist who throws to none but feeding fish would
lack, if he overcame his prejudices and essayed to throw the wet fly on
Northern waters.
The obvious natural law which causes fish to lie head upstream should
convince the reader that no undue stress has been laid upon the
importance of fishing upstream, and that that method should be rigidly
adhered to on all occasions, except those previously mentioned.
That trout have exceptionally keen eyesight, no one who has ever
walked along the banks of a trout stream will deny. How then can the
least thoughtful expect to creel decent fish with the river in normal
condition, if he stands with the fish below him, or, for that matter,
stands anywhere within their very wide range of vision, a range so wide
that, if a circle be described with the head of a trout for the centre,
only about one-sixth of the circumference of such a circle, and that
immediately behind, would appear to be outside the range of vision of the
fish?
From these well-known facts it will be obvious, even to the uninitiated,
that the best approach for the angler bent on capturing trout in clear
water is from behind. Yet, astonishing as it may seem (and for the
simple reason that it is the easier way), many men—we might almost say
the majority of men—invariably fish their flies across and downstream,
letting the flies sweep right round until they are directly below, where
they are often allowed to dangle in the water at the end of a taut line.
To fish downstream in this manner requires no particular skill, as the
stream does most of the work; and, while the great majority of fish risen
are merely pricked and lost, those caught are below the average of size
for the river fished. If the beginner is having a bad day and everything
is going wrong, if he grows tired with his efforts to fish upstream and
is tempted to resort to this method, rather than do so, let him knock
off for a while and smoke a pipe, and then return, with renewed hope and
vigour, to his upstream fishing, determined to master it.
Now it frequently happens that the angler wading upstream gets almost up
to, or at any rate within two or three yards of a fish, before ever his
presence is noticed. There is therefore in general little necessity to
use a long line when fishing upstream, yet it is often done.
Frequently anglers are met who say that they cannot fish upstream,
urging, by way of excuse, that they have difficulty in seeing fish rise,
which causes late striking, the fish being missed entirely, or, at the
most, only turned over. Of course it is difficult to see a rise, or
to strike a fish, in a rapid stream if a long line is used, and in the
majority of these cases the reason for failure is to be found in the use
of too long a line.
Therefore the novice who is bent on mastering fly-fishing upstream can
almost dismiss from his mind _the first part_ of the “far off and fine”
theory. In practice it will be found that, for fishing strong flowing
streams, a line (including the cast) but little longer than the rod is
ample; while for fishing the more gently flowing shallow water at the
edges of such streams, another yard or two of line will be necessary to
assist the angler in keeping out of sight. The angler must be ruled by
circumstances, always bearing in mind the fact that the most practical
length of line to use is the shortest on which a trout may be killed.
Once this fact has been fully appreciated and carried into practice, many
of the supposed difficulties of upstream fishing will vanish entirely,
leaving the novice free to tackle other problems.
Arriving at a likely stretch of water, and full of excitement on noticing
a fish rise at the tail of the main stream, the beginner will often wade
straight out to a point below the fish and then cast over him. There is
always a temptation, even to the expert, to go for a rising fish, but
under such circumstances, if the angler be wise, he will take a careful
survey before wading out, and will note the character of the water within
casting distance of the edge.
The experienced angler will do this instinctively, and will make his
first cast to the sharp run at the edge of the bank. His second will be
made slightly more across; and, after he has released another foot or two
of line, his flies at the third throw will search the slack water behind
the rock. Here the cast will be repeated two or three times in rapid
succession, the flies not being allowed to remain in the water more than
a moment, lest the current pick up the line and cause a drag.
The fear of drag is ever present, but drag may be avoided in many cases,
if care is exercised in regulating the speed at which the rod point
is raised as the flies are swept down by the current. When the flies
have been thrown to a quieter bit of water and there is a danger of the
current picking up the line, the moment of drag can often be postponed
if the cast finishes in a wavy line on the water, as the current has to
pickup the slack before the drag takes effect on the flies. To cast thus
is a feat not difficult of achievement for many of the fraternity.
Another throw is now made, then another, each rather more across stream,
and then, as a result of the next cast, the flies are hustled rapidly
down a race between two boulders. Here, as in all swift-flowing water, it
is necessary to make several casts before the angler can be sure that his
flies have thoroughly searched the run; and it is most important to keep
in mind that the casts of a past master at upstream fly fishing follow
quickly one after another.
[Illustration: _Headwaters of the Aire_
_Photo by N. N. Lee_]
Wading now a few yards across stream, the angler continues this system of
casting until he eventually reaches a point from which he can assail the
trout that was noticed rising at the tail of the main stream. A few more
steps then bring him to the far bank.
To fish a stream or length of river systematically, crossing and
recrossing, each time a few yards higher up, until the whole has been
thoroughly covered, takes time; but it is far better that the angler’s
flies should be on the water, searching every spot fit to hold a fish,
than waving in the air while he moves rapidly on from stream to stream.
Particularly is this the case in Spring when the rise comes on late and
ends early, and also on a Summer’s evening when the water seems literally
alive with fish, so madly do they rise, but for all too brief a spell.
Time is of all importance on such occasions, and here it is that the
angler who fishes methodically and with intelligence scores so heavily
as compared with the rod who spends half his time in walking from stream
to stream, and the other half in fishing them in a mechanical sort of
way. So many unsuccessful fishermen only fish the larger streams of a
river (and usually downstream), entirely ignoring the fact that, while
such streams afford a harbour for a great number of fish, they are often
deserted in favour of odd corners and favourite “lies” directly the
“rise” begins.
The thoughtful fisherman studies the water, its pools, currents and
eddies, and all those other details, the meaning of which under varying
conditions he has learned to read, and he is always alive to gather some
new hint. He brings to his aid the wisdom gained by past experiences,
successes and failures, and a knowledge of the habitat of the trout which
has been the reward of keen observation and a reasoning mind.
He will tell you that in early Spring the trout, having hardly recovered
their energy after spawning, are not to be found in the heavy rapids,
but may be looked for at the tail ends of streams and in gently flowing
water; that, as the weeks go by, and as the sun’s rays warm the water,
insect life becomes more plentiful, and that the trout, once more lusty
and strong with the abundant supply of food, spread themselves over the
river, into rapid streams and all those places into which steady supplies
are concentrated; and further, that during the heat of Summer they will
be located in the thinnest of water, at the very edges of streams, pools
and eddies, where they lie ever ready to dart away at the least suspicion
of danger.
Such an angler realizes the necessity of a good knowledge of insect life,
watercraft and the habitat of the trout, and becomes as intimate with
each as an artist is with his colours. And as blue and yellow combined
will make a green, so surely will the man who thoroughly acquires such
knowledge be a long way towards being numbered amongst the elect.
A goodly dish of trout hardly come by is a great satisfaction to a man
who has to fit in his fishing days when he can, but perhaps the greatest
pleasure to the true disciple of Walton is the capture, after many
failures and disappointments and under difficult conditions, of some wily
old trout whose education, by the constant bombardment of his stronghold,
has been brought to a high degree of finish. What memories of his capture
crowd the mind when some chance word stirs the chords! Perhaps he came
from out a moorland stream when the snell wind flung back the spray from
every sounding fall, or may be he stubbornly gave up his virile life on
some sun-steeped day when first the daffodils proclaimed that laggard
Spring had come to a waking country side. Whatever the memory, it is
wholly delightful.
The charm of fly fishing is never ending and a great part lies in the
infinite field for experiment open to him who runs. Every day some new
feature is revealed; and, even in this twentieth century, he who will
leave the beaten track, bent on exploration, will always discover new
ground for investigation. The truth of this was brought home to one of
the writers most forcibly when on a fishing expedition one July some
years ago.
Rain on the previous day had left the river slightly coloured, and in
magnificent condition, and as the sun was some little way above, though
nearing the horizon, he, with the lightest heart and full of hope,
approached a steady flowing reach where the banks were here and there
fringed with clumps of willows.
A fish rose well out in the stream, then another, and another; and as
the tackle had been fitted up before leaving the farm-house, even to
the putting on of a cast of flies, it was not long before those fish,
which were apparently seizing every fly that passed over them, were
covered again and again. All to no purpose, for the trout proved very
discriminating, and at last, when a fish half rose without breaking the
surface of the water, a change of fly was decided on.
Hovering round the willows, dancing to and fro in the air, were hundreds
of insects, which on examination proved to be Light and Dark Silverhorns.
Five minutes had barely elapsed when, with a Light Silverhorns to replace
his point fly and a Dark one as first dropper, the angler was again
assailing his fish; but he could get no more satisfactory response than a
bulge or two. Then the position of these two flies was reversed, a step
which often pays, but it did not on that occasion.
The case was becoming desperate, for the rise would soon be over. So with
some reluctance he left the rising fish and waded into the stream and put
his flies into a likely looking eddy below an overhanging willow bush
growing on the far bank. Almost immediately a fish was battling for dear
life, but without avail; and soon five more, all coming from under the
bank, quickly joined him in the creel.
As the last of these fish was being drawn over the net, two local anglers
appeared on the scene. Neither had killed a fish, so a few precious
moments were taken up in wading out and giving each one or two of the
killing fly.
When the rise was over the angler counted eight brace of nice sizable
fish, all but two being killed on the Silverhorns, the exceptions
having fallen to the Brown Owl, which was probably taken for the Light
Silverhorns. All came from under the willows and banks on a reach no more
than fifty yards in length, but strange to say, the local men finished up
without a fish to show between them.
Later on, when considering the events of the evening between the sheets,
it occurred to the successful one, that the killing fly of the evening
was a killing fly only so long as it was fished close to the banks near
the willows, and in those places over which hovered the natural fly. The
locals had evidently fished the fly out in mid-stream; hence their clean
creels.
The following day was a Day of Rest, and as this idea was after all but
surmise, nothing was said to the two local fishermen, but the results of
the next evening’s fishing were awaited with considerable interest.
Conditions on the Monday proved to be very similar to those prevailing
on the Saturday, and the results of the day justified the surmise,
that the fish under the willows were feeding on such insects as hovered
above them, every now and then to touch the water, while those out in
mid-stream had no Silverhorns available and so confined their attention
to the spent spinners, smuts and other flies, which were brought to them
by the current.
If the solution of the problem that presented itself on that first
evening be correct, then the killing power of a fly is often dependent
on its being fished with due regard to the haunts of the natural insect
it is supposed to imitate. What a field is here for investigation, and
yet the matter is one upon which no hard and fast rules can be made.
Prevailing conditions must be studied carefully. A cross-wind might
obviously entirely alter the local conditions, and one would not look in
such circumstances for flies in their usual haunts. On windy days the
observant angler would probably find that the menu of the fish on the
side from which the wind was blowing would include many Diptera or other
land-bred insects, while the fish on the lee shore, would most likely be
feeding principally on such insects of aquatic origin as happened to be
hatching out at the time.
The foregoing merely serves to illustrate a few of the many
considerations involved in this absorbing sport; and in following up
these problems many side issues of equal importance will be opened up.
If the beginner is dogged by disappointment and failure (and who can
feel the utter bitterness of disappointment more than a fisherman?), let
him be advised to take heart of grace and not to blame the lowness of
the water, the brightness of the day, thunder or any of the elements,
for his lack of sport, but to say to himself, “What have I left undone
that should have been done? Where have I failed?” For trout, like human
beings, take their daily bread; and it is up to the angler to find out
when and where and in what shape. If the beginner will therefore reason
out the causes of failure instead of making excuses for it, he will be
more likely then and on future occasions to remedy his mistakes and to
know the satisfaction of killing fish on a really difficult day.
DRY-FLY FISHING.
Next to be considered are the dry fly and its use on the North Country
Rivers; but the novice is strongly urged, before ever he seeks to master
this branch of angling, to get a good grip of the wet-fly method.
From the term “North Country Rivers” are naturally excluded such rivers
as the Costa, which is probably the nearest approach in the North to the
Chalk streams of Hampshire, the home of the dry fly. On that particular
river the dry fly would probably on most occasions take the premier
position, whereas on the rougher and more rapid streams, such as the
Wharfe, Ribble, Lune, etc., the position is reversed.
Not many years ago one very seldom came across anyone further North than
Derbyshire fishing the dry fly, but slowly and surely has the method
become more and more popular; for it is only by the judicious combination
of the two methods of fly fishing that the best results and the greatest
pleasure can, in the judgment of the writers, be obtained. But _chacun
à son goût_, and far be it from them to legislate for any sportsmen who
wish or agree to keep their waters exclusively for any one method of
fishing.
Dry-fly fishing, as practised in the South, differs slightly from the
method here advocated for the rougher streams above-mentioned, inasmuch
as the purist of the South will not throw a fly to any but a rising fish,
even though he wait an hour or more before locating one, while the North
Country angler not only throws to the rise, but also to such places as
are likely to hold feeding fish.
When a specially strong hatch of duns takes place on Northern rivers and
the fish line up to suck in the insects as they hurry downstream, sails
spread to the breeze, it will pay the angler to try the floater. Again,
between streams on rapid rivers one often comes upon a long stretch of
quiet steady flowing water ideal for the dry fly. By applying themselves
to such a stretch with the methods of their friends of the South the
writers have more than once retrieved a bad day. Quiet eddies too may
frequently be fished with success by this method, and every river has
some places, and is subject to some moods, in which the dry fly scores
over the wet.
The first experience of one of the writers in dry-fly fishing was years
ago. He had fished for grayling till noon on a bright frosty October
day with indifferent success, when, on reaching a long stream with the
current under the far bank, he noticed several fish rising at the tail.
In between himself and the fish was a wide stretch of water some twelve
or eighteen inches in depth, and the fish were out of reach, as the
angler was not wearing waders.
Now the occasional fish he had managed to reach during the course of the
morning absolutely refused the wet fly.
At the moment another fisherman appeared from upstream and, wading out,
immediately caught several nice fish, to the no small envy of him on the
bank. Before passing on the successful angler vouchsafed the remark “dry
fly,” and gave the writer in question the “oil tip” in theory and in
practice.
Off came boots and stockings, and, with the shallow water safely waded,
the rising grayling were within casting distance. So long as the fly—a
Red Tag—could be kept dry, so long did the fish rise at it, but they
would not look at it when water-logged. Between whiles the angler came
to shore to stamp a bit of feeling into his legs, for the water was icy
cold; but he enjoyed himself hugely and got quite a decent bag, besides
adding greatly to the scope of his accomplishment in the gentle art.
The writers have seen the dry fly score heavily during the rise of Iron
Blue Duns, and they remember one occasion when that most dainty and
beautiful Ephemera was sailing down in numbers, and when a feathered
imitation accounted for six brace of fish from a weed-grown reach of
steady flowing water.
A word here must be said with regard to the timing of the strike when
using the dry fly, for the man who is used to wet-fly fishing will
probably strike too quickly and at the most only prick his fish. In the
former method, before attempting to drive home the steel, the fish should
be allowed to turn with the fly in his mouth. In wet-fly fishing the fish
has often turned before the rise becomes apparent.
Many occasions could be mentioned on which the dry fly has given the
writers most pretty fishing. Once on a Cleveland stream, slow flowing and
edged with most luxuriant vegetation, the wet fly, cast over rise after
rise, was totally ignored, but a change to a floating Female Black Gnat
at once worked wonders. Had it not been for the innumerable derelict
branches and water weeds in which the cast was time after time tied up,
the creel would have been heavy. But the enjoyment was intense that
glorious June evening.
Quite sharp streams too will often fish well with the dry fly in the long
evenings, and on one occasion it was again the Female Black Gnat which
accounted for some difficult Wharfe trout that refused all wet flies,
however presented. It is indeed during the evening rise that the dry fly
will be found most generally useful on Northern streams.
That fickle evening rise that so many anglers impatiently wait for all
day, only to return home beaten and disappointed at dark! Not that the
fish do not rise, for at times the water literally boils with them, but
their discrimination is truly wonderful. How many an angler on occasions
during all that mad rise has never killed a fish, or not until the sun
had dropped well behind the horizon and dusk was upon him. Then perhaps
he has creeled four or five before the rise ceased, but has returned home
dissatisfied, realizing that he had been thoroughly beaten, and that it
was the failing light, and not his skill, knowledge or ingenuity, that
saved him from a blank.
An autopsy will often reveal on such occasions spinners, gnats and sedge
flies; and yet the most lightly and carefully made imitations, however
deftly thrown, utterly fail as wet flies to attract the fish.
At times like these a Black Gnat, Ginger and Red Spinners No. 35 and No.
36, fished dry, and later, as the sun drops behind the horizon, a Silver
Sedge may be recommended.
The angler should begin at the tail end of the stream and work gradually
up, placing his fly over every rise and in all such places as are likely
to hold feeding fish.
On occasions when all else fails, a trial may be given to a fancy fly,
such as the Pink Wickham or Coachman. With such patterns during that most
tantalising of rises the writers have sometimes retrieved their fortunes.
Then, as dusk comes on and the dry fly becomes difficult to see, let the
angler quickly change to a cast of wet flies, the flies dressed a size
larger than those usually used during the day, and before the rise is
over his creel may be the heavier for the change.
The dry fly has done yeoman service on some of those impossible days when
fish streak away like lightning directly the cast falls on the water.
By much stalking and careful fishing of out-of-the-way places and odd
corners, the writers have sometimes finished with a brace or two which
have given great satisfaction.
It is very comical to see the evident surprise of a fish which is taken
in by a dry fly when he is quietly feeding in the shallows. Before he
moves off for the stream he often seems to completely lose his head,
bouncing about half in and half out of the water, and creating no end
of a splash. On one occasion within the writers’ experience under such
circumstances a trout landed himself high and dry on the shingle where
he broke the hold, and, continuing his antics, regained the water. Long
ere this he must have made room for his descendants, as agile, let it be
hoped, as himself.
How inordinately fond trout must be of the “fisherman’s curse”—a term
which covers, no doubt, several varieties of fly—for it will be found to
have occurred in the trout’s menu with unfailing regularity throughout
the summer and autumn. It almost always is the fly which the trout pick
off the surface of the water when they rise in the quiet flats the
livelong day, days which, most anglers will agree, are usually the most
difficult. Sometimes something may be done with Ginger or Red Spinners,
wet or dry, under such conditions, when imitations of the “curses,”
probably on account of their size, fail to attract.
The Ginger and Red Spinners described have only by degrees worked their
way into the inner circle of the writers’ flies. Experience has proved
their usefulness, for they will often be taken when all else fails. These
dry patterns have killed fish under particularly difficult and hopeless
conditions; and their use is recommended with the greatest confidence.
Such then is a brief outline of the occasions on which the dry fly has
been found to be of most use to the North Countryman; but no hard and
fast rules can be made, for the angler’s discernment must play the
greater part in regulating his actions, and the foregoing hints are
merely given as some small guide to the beginner. But let all who try the
dry fly beware of drag; it will ruin the chances of the most artistic
cast.
Anyone with designs on dry-fly fishing on Northern streams may well
confine himself to a few of Mr. Halford’s patterns, say the Olive Dun,
Dark Olive Dun, Iron Blue Dun, and Black Gnat, with the addition of the
Ginger and Red Spinners, Nos. 35 and 36, the Red Quill, and the Silver
Sedge, and a fancy pattern or two, such as the Coachman and Pink Wickham,
for use on occasions described above.
A great debt of gratitude is due to those who introduced the dry fly and
developed its use so whole-heartedly, for there is a charm about dry-fly
fishing which is distinctive, and a fascination that almost defies
description in watching a neatly cocked artificial fly approach the
rings made by a rising trout. A moment of suspense, intense excitement,
followed by joy supreme when a timely strike is rewarded by a tightened
line. So, apart from its being an asset in the filling of the creel,
the dry fly increases the pleasures of the gentle craft to a very great
extent, a craft as unique in its scope and variety as it is intriguing in
its difficulties. The whole setting of the craft enhances its enchantment
and give it a hold upon its followers, powerful as that of friendship,
converting them into ardent devotees for life. Whether one follows its
calling in the flower-starred water meadows of the South, or explores
the rivers of the “stone-ribbed North,” the peace and beauty of the
surroundings, far from the noisy crowd, add a charm which every good
fisherman knows how to be thankful for.
[Illustration: _Broken Water_
_Photo by Mr F. Creedy_]
How pleasant is the time of the after-luncheon pipe, with the dipper
curtseying from the stones in mid-stream. May be the desolate call of
the curlew floats down from the fells, and the grey dale village, with
its quaint architecture, speaks of times long past, of times when the
Borderers filed down the valley, perhaps to fall upon a party of Monks
from the rich Abbey of Fountains. Imagination suggests to the ear the
savage shout of exultation of the assailants and the screams of the
stricken, when a widening circle in the stream brings one back to present
day realities in a second.
Such is a part of the angler’s day, which, lingering in the mind,
inspires him through the long wintry months to look forward to the time
when God’s earth shall be fresh and green again, and the wild thyme be
fragrant on the banks of many a North Country stream.
Great men and small alike are held by the wonderful fascination of the
sport, which gives such joy, affords such relaxation to the mind, and
is so free from all taint of brutality. And though the actual angling
requires the utmost concentration of mind and thought, yet after all, it
has truly been described as “The Contemplative Man’s Recreation.”
CHAPTER III.
CREEPER AND STONE FLY FISHING.
There are not many streams in the North that have a distinct rise of
May Fly or Green Drake, and for that reason the writers have not given
any dressings of that fly, nor do they propose to devote space to a
consideration of May Fly fishing. To make up for the loss of that
beautiful Ephemera there is on most of these rivers the sober-hued Stone
Fly, whose season almost coincides with that of the May Fly.
The flies are very different. The one, elegant and dainty, is to be seen
one moment floating with wings upright upon the surface, then drifting in
the breeze, while the other, dark coloured and of unprepossessing aspect,
merges from the Creeper stage only to scuttle under the stones and remain
quietly in darkness till nightfall, making off once more for obscurity if
by chance its whereabouts is revealed.
The Stone Fly has four wings, which in repose are folded flat over the
back. It passes the greater part of its existence in the Creeper state,
in which it can be found during the latter part of April and throughout
May under the stones in shallow water near the edges of streams. The
Creeper varies in colour from an olive green to a dull dark brown, strong
yellow showing at the junction of the segments of the body. It is of
somewhat repulsive appearance, and measures from half an inch to nearly
an inch in length. It has six legs, two caudal setæ, and two antennæ.
It is often difficult to collect a supply of Creepers; not that they are
particularly active, but the disturbance of the water caused by lifting
the stones is apt to hide them while they wriggle under other stones. It
is stated that if the angler, wishing to secure a supply, stands with
his back to the current of the river and holds his landing net upright
before him with the top of the net resting on the river bed, and then
shuffles his brogues amongst the stones, the Creepers displaced by his
activity will be washed into the waiting net and a plentiful supply be
thus secured. The writers have never been particularly successful in this
device, but that is no reason why others should not try it. The Creepers
obtained are best kept in a tin box, together with a little damp moss.
There is no doubt that the Creeper forms an important item in the trout’s
menu in Spring, as an autopsy of the day’s catch at that time of the year
will reveal; and many is the Creeper that has been grabbed by a watchful
fish as it ventured from out its hiding place, or that has been torn
from beneath the stones by a questing trout. Creepers are very plentiful
in those North Country rivers which have the typical stony bed, but the
season of the Creeper being April and May, the writers do not often fish
it, nor is Creeper fishing generally much followed, as during that time
of the year fly fishing is at its very best. Still, if on occasion the
reader has found his most carefully dressed flies fail to rise a fish—as
they will sometimes even in Spring—he might do worse than collect a few
Creepers, as this method of fishing forms a pleasant variant of the
fisherman’s craft and throws a further light upon the habits and life and
whereabouts of the trout.
The line should be well greased, and the cast (as in fly fishing), three
yards tapered down to finest drawn gut with a form of Pennell tackle at
the end, having the lower hook a size larger than the upper one (this
latter being size No. 3 in the scale before mentioned on page 8). The
bend of one hook should be five-eighths of an inch from the bend of the
other, the hooks to be whipped on with olive green silk for preference.
The fly rod and line complete the outfit.
The end hook of the tackle should be put through the Creeper almost at
the extremity of its tail, where it is toughest, and the other hook in
the unhappy beast’s shoulder, not the head, as the head is liable to tear
off.
The fishing should be done upstream and the Creeper cast gently, with an
avoidance of jerk. The fly fisherman will soon instinctively feel the
amount of power he can put into his casts. The rod point must be raised
slowly as the bait trundles down, so that there is no drag. When the line
stops or draws away, the angler tightens at once; otherwise the fish may
eject the bait.
The most productive places in Creeper fishing are usually the edges of
the streams, but rougher water and the necks of streams will often yield
fish; and all places where trout are known or expected to be should be
tried, particularly about boulders and where a current in the river is
contracted into a narrow run.
About the last week in May the Creepers will be found to be quitting the
water and fastening themselves to the rocks and stones on the river’s
brim, to the buttresses of bridges, and to those rocks which stand
out above the water. Here it is possible at times to watch the Stone
Fly emerge through the slit in the back of the Creeper, leaving the
perfectly-shaped skin rigid behind it, although in general Stone Flies
hatch during the night.
Once the Fly is hatching in numbers, the carnival begins, although very
few are to be seen unless they are searched for. An odd fly may be
seen occasionally being carried down the stream or paddling across a
shallow, but for the most part the Stone Flies lie very close in their
hiding places beneath the stones near the water. Consequently the ideal
conditions for Stone Fly fishing are when a fresh of a few inches comes
suddenly down the river and washes them out of their hiding places.
The large females with the long wings are usually preferred by both
fishermen and trout; the fishermen find them easy to see on the water,
and the trout no doubt find them a satisfying mouthful. The males vary in
size, although they are smaller than the females and have shorter wings;
the smallest males are difficult to see when cast on the water and soon
become water-logged; the larger males are almost as good as the females.
The males are called “Jacks.” If males are used, the hooks of the tackle
should be nearer together than the hooks in the tackle usually used in
Stone Fly fishing.
It is not as a rule difficult to collect a supply of Stone Flies, but the
males greatly outnumber the females. As they are picked up they can be
placed in one of the Stone Fly boxes sold for the purpose, a transparent
one for preference. The tackle and rod line and cast for Stone Fly
fishing are exactly the same as those described for Creeper fishing, and
the fly should be put on the hooks in the same manner as the Creeper.
The fishing should again be upstream and the Stone Fly be cast as in
Creeper fishing; but, whereas the Creeper is fished under the water,
the Stone Fly is fished on the surface, as it loses much of its
attractiveness when water-logged. It will stand a fair amount of knocking
about, but jerks should be avoided, as tending to throw the fly off the
hooks.
The Stone Fly accounts for some large fish, and sometimes those old
warriors that have passed the regular fly-taking stage, and have become
wily and big, succumb to its charms. Therefore it is well to remember
that all places which harbour a trout will often yield one under proper
conditions; and, although the streams fish about as well with Stone Fly
as with anything else, it should not be forgotten that trout, when on
the feed, very often leave the streams for shallow water, and for any
vantage point where the current concentrates all the flotsam and jetsam
from yards above into one narrow channel, and that they love to haunt the
neighbourhood of rocks and boulders.
The Stone Fly will kill many fish which are not strictly on the feed,
but which cannot resist the temptation to make the most of the Stone Fly
season when a great juicy female fly floats overhead. If the reader bears
this fact in mind he will seize the opportunity in the early summer to
get the big one which has so often waved a vanishing tail at his flies.
The size of the fly is against its being sucked in as easily as the
usual artificial, and it is of advantage to give a moment’s grace before
striking when a fish rises. Never to be forgotten is the disappointment
of a too hasty strike one lovely early June morning. The angler was
out before the sun topped the fell, and a few brace were already in the
creel, when he reached a perfect eddy at the side of the main stream. The
Stone Fly was cast _secundum artem_ (would that the further proceedings
had been on the same plane!). It had hardly alighted when a big fish came
up like a porpoise. Alas! quick as light the eager one tightened without
allowing the moment’s grace, down went the fish and played strongly,
facing the current and giving heartrending jars to the line. Confidence
was beginning to take the place of fear of a light hold, when up the
beauty came, headed into the stream and came down with all the force of
its waters thrown into the scale. He was just opposite the angler when
the rod flew up, and that sorrowful angler saw no more of what would
undoubtedly have been his big fish of the season.
The charm of Stone Fly fishing is truly enhanced by the season of its
use. What could be finer than the river side in the latter days of May
and early June; and a turn before breakfast at that time of the year is a
delight to be remembered the winter through. Besides, a good creel when
fish are not so terribly difficult to kill is like all success honestly
come by, a delight to the heart and a pleasure to one’s friends.
CHAPTER IV.
UPSTREAM WORM FISHING.
No book devoted to the subject of the fishing of North Country rivers
would be complete without a chapter on worm fishing.
This branch of the sport, has during recent years become more and more
popular in the Northern Counties, as worm fishing, under the conditions
mentioned later, undoubtedly deserves to be classed as an art alongside
of the highest forms of fly fishing. Indeed, in its difficulties it
exceeds fly fishing, both wet and dry.
There remains, however, still a certain amount of prejudice against worm
fishing among fly fishermen, who continue to look upon it as unsporting
and therefore beneath the notice of a self-respecting fisherman. But the
prejudice of these men is probably largely due to their misconception of
the term. For while trout can mostly be caught by any in a fresh with
very elementary tackle, it takes an observant and persevering man to
make a basket under conditions suitable for sporting upstream worming.
The use of the worm during the first few months of the season cannot be
defended, whether the river be low and clear, or running strong with the
Spring freshets; for seldom a day passes at that time of the year without
a rise at some part of it during which trout will take a fly, and, while
that is the case, what true disciple of Walton would use any other lure?
The season therefore when the worm can fairly be used is restricted to
the time of low clear waters during the hottest part of the summer, when
the trout have ceased to rise freely to the fly in the day-time, a period
of some eight or ten weeks, beginning about the 10th of June. The Stone
Fly is usually over by that date. Any antipathy to worm fishing under
those conditions in our North Country Rivers is difficult to understand,
for it provides a most sporting variety of fishing during the blazing
days of summer when the fly is hopeless. And unless a man is prepared
to work hard in the blistering sun, unless he has a good knowledge of
the habits of trout, and is able to show a fair amount of skill, both in
approaching his fish and in throwing the worm, his basket will be a light
one.
Many are the days during the latter part of June and the month of July
when the man who fishes fly only will return home with but an odd fish
or so to show for his day’s outing. That may satisfy the gentleman of
leisure, but to those who can devote to their favourite pastime only such
days—often few and far between—as can be snatched from business, the
killing of a few brace will appeal strongly.
To them in particular this chapter is addressed in the hope that some of
those who, through prejudice, use fly only will reserve judgment, and,
having read so far, may be sufficiently interested to read to the end of
the chapter, and maybe to put into practice those hints which are here
offered on one of the most delightful branches of trout fishing.
A day with the upstream worm always gives to the writers the utmost
pleasure and satisfaction. Each cast is as full of interest as a cast
made with the wet fly; and from the moment the worm touches the water to
the moment it is withdrawn, the excitement rivals that conjured up by the
approach of a dry fly to the spot whence recently emanated the rings made
by a rising trout.
Then again, the skill necessary to throw a worm without flicking it off
the hooks, and to drop it exactly where required with the least possible
disturbance, is of no mean order.
That is not all, however; conditions vary, and all rivers from day to
day present new problems. Unless therefore the angler is able to adapt
himself to varying conditions, the most precise and delicate casting is
of little avail.
To divine instinctively where the trout lie is the great secret of
success; and it is the application of that knowledge that marks the
expert in this branch of angling. To put the matter in a nutshell, an
adept in upstream worm fishing combines delicate and accurate casting,
unsurpassed even by the dry-fly man, with an intimate knowledge of the
habits of trout. This can only be gained by keen and careful observation.
Neither wet-fly nor dry-fly fishing requires quite such a wide experience
with regard to the habits of trout, and for that reason upstream worm
fishing is to be classed as an art in itself. The knowledge gained of the
habitat of the trout by clear water worming is a valuable asset to the
wet-fly fisher and may often be turned to good account on one of those
days when the hatch of fly is meagre and rising fish are few.
Is not this latter reason alone sufficient recommendation to induce every
fly fisher to take up this branch of the art? If the reader thinks so,
perhaps the few following hints on tackle and procedure may serve as
some guide, particularly if he be a novice and about to make his initial
effort.
The rod is, of course, of primary importance. Many writers recommend one
of 12 ft. in length; and Stewart, who has always held the reputation
of being one of the finest exponents of upstream worming of his day,
recommends the use of a rod even longer than that. No doubt a long rod
has the advantage of enabling the wielder to keep out of sight readily,
but the writers seldom use any other than a 10½ ft. fly rod, simply
because they frequently find it advisable to change from worm to fly and
_vice versâ_.
The reel and line should be the same as that used for fly fishing, and
also the cast (as in fly fishing), a tapered one of three yards, the last
yard being of finest drawn gut. Then comes the worm tackle. With regard
to this there is a choice of three different varieties, each having its
own advantages, and it is for the reader to use that with which he best
succeeds.
First there is the single-hook tackle, in which the worm is threaded over
the shank of the hook, and is kept from slipping down by a crank at the
top. The advantages of this tackle are that most of the hook is hidden,
being buried in the worm, and, the hook being fairly large, a good hold
is got upon a fish when hooked.
Second comes the two-hook or Pennell tackle. In this case two small hooks
are used, one being whipped on to the gut an inch above the other. The
upper hook is put through the worm a quarter to half an inch below the
head, the worm is then twisted once round the tackle between the hooks,
and the lower hook is put through the lower end of the body. This is a
very good form of tackle, and is the one preferred by the writers, as the
worm lives longer on it than when threaded on a single hook, is livelier
and has a more natural appearance in the water. The hooks should be size
No. 3 in the scale before mentioned on page 8.
Third comes the Stewart tackle, which is the same in form as the Pennell,
except that it has three hooks one above the other, instead of two. This
is a tackle the writers have very seldom used, and they are therefore,
perhaps, hardly competent to speak of its merits. Their experience,
however, leads them to think that the three hooks cannot be sufficiently
well concealed by the small worms which it is imperative to use in low
clear waters, and that therefore the trout have a better opportunity of
detecting the deception.
The next point in the outfit is waders, and these are absolutely
essential if the best is to be got out of upstream worming. The fish must
be approached from almost directly behind, which is impossible in most
cases if the fishing is done from the bank.
Lastly, the angler should always carry a few small leads or sinkers which
can be easily put on and easily removed. Split shot in various sizes,
hammered flat, will do quite well. They will not often be required, but
it is always as well to have them handy for the odd places where their
use is necessary, which are described later.
And now a word as to worms. “Maiden dews,” so often advertised, are not
the best for the purpose, but those known as “Pinktails” are the real
thing; they should be small, say 2 inches in length, and of a pale pink
colour. They should, of course, be well scoured, and they can be carried
in moss in a bag hung round the neck.
With regard to throwing the worm, the two aims never to be lost sight of
are accuracy and delicacy, and this combination can only be attained by
constant practice. The man who can cast a fly will soon get the knack of
putting the worm where he wishes, if he remembers that, when throwing the
worm, the action is slower and more of a swing than in casting a fly,
and that the rod point should be brought rather nearer the water at the
finish of the cast. In addition to this, the arm should be pushed forward
just as the worm is about a foot from the mark, in order to obviate any
recoil and ensure that there shall be little disturbance of the surface
as the worm drops into the water.
The greatest trouble of the novice is the frequency with which he flicks
the worm off the hooks, particularly if the day’s supply has not been
well scoured. To master this trouble all jerks must be avoided, both when
withdrawing the worm from the water and also when the cast is extended
behind. As before stated, the movement should be more of a swing than in
fly casting, with just sufficient power to extend the line behind and the
same in front; there will then be few lost or broken worms.
The next and, without doubt, the most essential point for consideration
is where to fish.
Imagine a bright day towards the end of June on the banks of a typical
North Country river. The gate just passed through brings one to the tail
end of a rapid stream some fifty yards in length, broken here and there
by boulders, some submerged and others just showing their dark mossy
heads above the surface of the water. At the head of the stream there is
a line of submerged stepping stones which no doubt many years ago, before
the bed of the river changed, served a useful purpose.
This stretch of river from bank to bank is nowhere more than two feet
deep, except in the middle a few yards below the stepping stones, where
the current is strongest and where it has dug out a deeper channel. The
beginner looking at this stream immediately notices the darker tone of
water denoting the deeper channel and concludes that, of all places in
the reach, that is the most likely to hold a good fish. Let him not be
misled; the deeper channel holds many good fish, but of all parts of the
stream, that channel is the least likely place from which to basket one.
[Illustration: _The Head of the Dale_
_Photo by N. N. Lee_]
Often have the writers seen men enter this stream, and wade straight out
to the deeper water, unwittingly driving scores of trout in consternation
before them. They fish the deeper rush of water, are rather surprised
that it does not yield a fish, and then move up the river to the next
stream, splashing right through the best water as they go. These men,
more often than not, return home with a creel lighter than it was before
they ate their mid-day meal; and, besides doing nothing themselves, they
make it absolutely impossible for another following on, to fish the
stream with any chance of success within half-an-hour of their having
disturbed it.
The way in which a friend, an adept at clear-water worming, would
approach and fish this stream is very different. Here is a description of
his method.
He enters the reach at the very tail end, where, at the edge, the water
ripples along some two or three inches deep. The manner of his beginning
may be compared to an otter’s in the quietness with which he enters the
river; there is no splash or disturbance, and, more probably than not, he
will stoop to avoid being seen.
He will make the first cast straight upstream, the worm entering the
water twenty-five or thirty feet in front of him, but only some six to
twelve inches from the bank.
Many beginners have laughed at the idea of a fish being caught in such a
place, but let the unbelievers walk on a bright summer’s day along the
bank of a trout stream, and what do they see? Innumerable fish darting
away from the edges of the river, scared at their approach. It is for
these very fish that our expert intends to try, when he makes his cast at
the extreme edge of the river.
Directly the worm reaches the water, it begins to travel naturally and
without drag towards the angler, who slowly raises the point of his
rod, keeping in touch with the worm so that a twist of the wrist will
immediately drive the hook home if a fish takes hold. He is careful
to avoid drag, which is fatal, and is usually caused by the too rapid
raising of the rod point. Without moving his position he makes another
cast, only this time slightly more across the stream, then another and
another, each being further from the bank.
He now wades gently a yard further upstream. In front of him, and just
within casting distance, he notices an obstacle which causes a tiny eddy.
The object is little more than a good-sized tuft of grass jutting out
from the bank, but even that so alters the flow of the water, as to form
a likely feeding place for a fish. The cast is carefully made and the
worm falls into the water as though it had crawled to the edge of the
grass and dropped in.
Almost as soon as the worm has touched the water the current carries it
gently, and quite naturally, into the eddy. The line stops, our friend
withholds his hand, and it is not until the line moves slightly towards
the main stream that he gives a turn of the wrist, driving the hook home
into a nice half-pound fish. For a moment it splashes dangerously in the
shallow water before making off for the deeper stream. The hook, however,
is well home and the captive is quickly brought down and drawn over the
submerged net.
“Well!” says an uninitiated onlooker, “who would have thought that a fish
would have been so near the edge, and in such shallow water too?” The
more you fish the upstream worm, the greater will be your astonishment at
the number and the size of trout caught in such places.
Having basketed his fish, the angler rebaits his tackle, and then gently
moves a yard further upstream, repeating his systematic casting. In this
manner he stalks his quarry up the one side to the head of the stream.
Yes, “stalk” is the word which most adequately describes this man’s
methods, as he takes the greatest pains to avoid being seen. It is work,
and hard work too, on a blazing hot day; but it pays, and it is only
necessary to see the expert’s basket at the end of it to be convinced.
There is always a good dish of fish, and, as often as not, a very large
fish to top off with.
The stepping stones having been reached, our friend leaves the water.
Keeping well away from the edge he returns to the tail of the stream
and wades some eight yards across. His first cast is made upstream and
slightly towards the bank he has just left, the next one more directly in
front, the next inclined towards the opposite side, and so on until he is
casting more and more towards the far bank. Yard by yard the stream is
covered in this manner, as the angler works upwards until two or three
boulders are within casting distance, one showing distinctly above the
surface of the water, while the others are detected only by the broken
surface of the stream.
This is another very likely place, but our friend prefers the edges of
the stream and thinner water to such places, although the latter are
often good for two or three fish. The first cast is made towards the
near bank, but without result. The second also fails to entice a fish,
although the worm was dropped just by the side of one of the submerged
boulders. At the third cast, however, which was made to the other side of
the same boulder, a fish fastens and is brought to net. The golden gleam
of another trout is seen as he is turned over, but missed, behind one of
the other rocks. Then at the succeeding cast the worm enters the water
about a foot beyond the rock which lifts above the surface of the stream.
The sharp water running round the side of a boulder forms a favourite
feeding place for a fish; a trout occupying such a position usually lies
with his head slightly in advance of the rock. The worm has just time to
sink before it is picked up by the stream and carried rapidly down the
run. A fish turns and darts after it. He seizes his prey as it sweeps
almost past the rock, the steel is gently driven home, and another fish
duly joins his brethren in the creel.
The whole of the stream is worked in the foregoing manner, the far edge
of the river being treated in the same way as the side on which a
beginning was made, and great care is taken that a tell-tale wave does
not precede the angler.
At the far side, immediately below the stepping-stones, and lying
slightly across stream, is the submerged trunk of an old tree which
lodged there years ago, no doubt washed down and left by some winter
flood. The position of this tree trunk, resisting the force of the
current, causes a sharp stream to flow parallel to it. In this run a good
fish will always be found, lying ready to seize whatever of his fancy
the stream may carry to him. A cast is made, the worm gently dropping
into the water some two or three inches from the side of the log. The rod
point is slowly raised, our expert being most particular not to do this
too quickly, and cause a drag on the worm. This necessity for avoidance
of drag is a point to be reiterated and insisted on as strongly in this
branch of the art as in fly fishing, as one is often inclined to think
a stream is running quicker than is actually the case, and an unnatural
drag will cause many a good fish to turn away, that would otherwise have
taken the lure. The worm has hardly travelled more than half its course,
when the line stops. As it moves away a gentle strike is rewarded by
a tightened line, and another lusty trout is battling for dear life.
Upstream he goes for a few yards, then flings himself into the air, but
a lowered rod point defeats the manœuvre, and control of the captive
is regained as he re-enters the water. The split cane soon tells on his
strength, and quietly he is coaxed down stream to the net, but instead of
floating in he merges indistinct into the shadowy water, and an upflying
rod tells of a light hold and the loss of a stout-hearted fish.
Leaving this stream, and incidentally the friend whose methods have been
studied, let the reader give his company up the river to the next stream;
and, to realize how failure may be caused by wrong approach, let him
listen to an incident which happened to one of the writers in his early
days of upstream worming. But first the stream must be described.
A long deep pool (or dub, as it is called on the Eden) breaks away in a
short characterless rapid, narrowing towards the tail and then rushing
under willow trees which hang right out over the river from the right
bank. The strong stream has dug out a deep channel under these willows,
while the left or near bank is a bed of fine gravel gradually sloping
into the deeper water at the far side. This deep channel holds many good
fish, but they are quite unassailable so long as they remain well under
the willows.
Now for the incident. The day was blazing hot, the month July, and the
river low and clear when the writer in question first essayed to fish it
with the worm. Entering the water at the tail of the stream, he waded
out as near as possible to the willows, which, as described, were on his
left. Casting straight up in front of him he cherished the idea that the
stream would carry the worm under the willows to the place where, it was
hoped, the best fish would lie feeding. So far, so good. In this manner
he worked to the top of the stream without a touch, when a final throw
was made, pitching the worm into the water just where it rushed hardest
under the willows.
Almost before the worm touched the water, the dark form of a large fish,
some three or four pounds in weight, shot from the shallows on his right,
to his holt in the deeps under the willows. This fish had been lying in
the very thin water at the tail end of the rapids, no doubt seizing every
morsel that came within reach, but ever ready to dart into his stronghold
on the least sign of danger.
On the two following days the same thing happened, when it occurred to
that youthful angler that his approach had been all wrong, and that if
he had worked the thin water first, leaving the deeper channel until the
last, success might have attended his efforts. But reflection had come
too late; he had to leave, and he never saw the fish again.
There is another moral to the incident; although a deep inaccessible pool
may be the stronghold of the largest trout, they will, during the hot
summer months, frequently come to the thin edges of the stream to feed.
Another personal experience will perhaps serve to illustrate other
possibilities. Towards the end of June, after seven weeks’ drought, the
writers went to the upper reaches of a North Country river, where, thanks
to the generosity of the proprietor, they were permitted to have a few
days’ fishing. Owing to the long spell of dry weather the river, which
at the best of times is there little better than a good sized beck, had
shrunk to a mere trickle with deep pools here and there. The whole bed of
the river was thickly coated with a green slimy growth.
Local opinion had it that fishing was waste of time until a good flood
came to clean the bed of the river. Enthusiasm prevailed, however, as it
was the first opportunity one of the party had of fishing this stretch,
and the chance was not one to be missed, even though the prospects held
out no great hope of success.
Up to about noon on the first day he who was strange to the water had
never a fish to show for his efforts, although the trout were there and
plentiful.
What with the oppressive heat and persistent failure, much of the
keenness of early morning had worn off, and it was with a feeling akin to
relief that the angler unslung his creel and threw himself on to the bank
where he might enjoy a cigarette under the cool shade of the trees.
As the wreaths of smoke curled upwards, the unsuccessful one, with his
back propped against the trunk of a tree, began to survey the stretch
of river above him. Both banks were bordered by trees and clumps of
willows for a distance of some two hundred yards. The water was nowhere
more than two feet deep and so slight was the current that it was almost
imperceptible. Not a ripple broke the surface of the stretch from end
to end. It was like the proverbial “sheet of glass,” and, had it but
been able to reflect the expression on the angler’s face, nothing but
disappointment would have been revealed.
At length he jumped up with the intention of exploring the higher regions
of the river and as he did so several fish, scared at his proximity,
darted from the edge. Those trout decided the course of action, and,
although the reach was to all appearances hopeless, the angler determined
to try for some of the fish that were lying at the very edges, apparently
basking in the sun.
Wading a stretch of water such as this, was most difficult, necessitating
the utmost caution and slow approach, if the tell-tale wave were to be
avoided. For obvious reasons it was essential that the angler should
keep as close in to the willows on his side of the river as possible,
and cast as long a line as he could control. Every time the worm was
allowed to sink to the bottom, it was fouled with the vegetable growth on
the stones. This happened almost every cast, and just as the angler was
beginning to think that nobody but a fool would ever try to fish such a
place, he came within casting distance of a narrow opening between the
willows. Throwing carefully round the trees, the worm was landed within
a few inches of the bank. There was a wave such as a trout makes when
darting from the edge, and for the fraction of a second he thought that
the slight disturbance caused by the worm dropping into the water had
scared the fish. But no! the line quivered, then moved slightly, and,
in response to a well-timed strike, the rod bent to the fight of a good
half-pounder, which gave that thrill of satisfaction which is only felt
when a difficult situation has been overcome.
That stretch of water yielded, within an hour or so, eight fish, which
later proved to be above the average size for that part of the river.
The experience has been of the greatest value. Many times since then,
when fish would not take well in the stream, has a blank been saved by
attacking a stretch of water of this nature in this way. One thing leads
to another, and perhaps a further use to which the knowledge gained on
that occasion has been put is worth recording.
In common with many others, who can only go a-fishing at such times
as business permits, the writers frequently wield the rod on most
unpropitious days. Even in July they sometimes find on reaching the river
that half a gale of wind is blowing dead down stream. An hour’s battling
against the elements, trying in vain to get the worm well up in front, is
as a rule enough for anyone. Even if the worm lands occasionally where it
is wanted, the wind will catch the line and cause a most unnatural drag,
and ruin all chance of enticing a fish.
Those were the prevailing conditions on the first opportunity that
offered of making use of the experience just narrated.
Leaving an ideal stream, which on this particular day was absolutely
unsheltered from a strong downstream wind, the writers walked upstream,
but had not gone far when one of them noticed, in contrast with the
wind-beaten surface of the water, an unruffled place between two large
trees which overhung the bank. The water here was wadable, the current
almost non-existent, and within the shelter of the trees it was not
difficult to make a neat cast. The worm had scarcely touched the water
when, from under the cover of the overhanging boughs, came a nice plump
well-fed fish, and in full view of the angler appropriated the worm in
the most unsuspicious manner. Enough, the angler walked on trying behind
every bush, whether the river at that particular place was streamy or
otherwise; and since then, the writers have often had the laugh of a
heavy downstream wind.
Now by the foregoing it is not desired to suggest, that it is wise,
whenever an almost streamless stretch of water is reached, to fish it,
as the process is slow and takes up much time, which might probably
be used to better advantage in the streams and thin water; but, as a
stand-by, when conditions are against the angler and the trout not keen,
it is always well to try such places.
Another favourite feeding ground, where innumerable trout always
congregate, is the very tail end of a pool, just before it breaks away
into the stream below. The water in such a place forms a glassy glide,
in fishing which the novice will find his path to success beset with
difficulties, particularly if the banks of the river afford no cover.
The greatest circumspection in approach, and more than ordinary delicacy
in casting, are two essentials which will go far towards the mastery of
this situation; but there is again the difficulty of an unnatural drag
to be overcome. To obviate this trouble entirely in such a place, is
almost impossible, but much may be done to attain the desired end by
fishing with a short line and letting as little of it touch the water as
possible. Reaches of this character, however, will always fish best when
the angler has the wind behind him, and under those conditions should
never be neglected, as among the trout which haunt such places will
frequently be found the largest that the river produces.
Let it be understood, however, that the remarks in the foregoing
paragraph apply principally to large pools extending almost the whole
way across a river; but at the same time, it must not be thought that the
tail end of a small pool is useless; on the contrary, such places will
often yield a trout, and they are easier to fish than the larger glides.
Mention of the uses for the sinkers suggested in the outfit has been
purposely left until almost the last, as in clear-water worming the part
they play is a very small one.
When on an open stretch of water trouble is experienced in casting
against a wind, after having first tried in vain to overcome the
difficulty by reducing the length of the casting line, then, as a last
resource, pinch on to the cast a small lead eighteen inches above the
hooks. This will materially assist in getting out the line, and at the
same time the lead will help to reduce the drag on the line which the
wind will be certain to cause.
Further use for sinkers will be found when fishing rapid rivers where
many channels of very swift flowing water are frequently met with.
Outside these occasions, however, leads will be found of little value and
their use should be exceptional in upstream worming.
Without wishing to enlarge further on this almost inexhaustible subject,
there is one other point of some importance which should be mentioned and
that is a method by which any difficulty experienced in detecting when
the worm has been seized may be overcome. Many beginners, particularly
if their eyesight is not of the best, find this a great source of
trouble. Let them grease the reel line well before a start is made. It
will then float, and any check upon it will be noticed immediately. If
even that does not get over the difficulty, let them tie on a small piece
of light-coloured wool where the cast and line join (the wool can often
be obtained from the fences at the stream side where sheep have rubbed),
form the wool into a tiny ball and soak it with oil such as is carried by
the dry-fly man. When this ball gets water-logged all that is necessary
is to squeeze it between finger and thumb and occasionally re-oil it. It
will be found to float splendidly, and by following the golfer’s first
maxim, “Keep your eye on the ball,” few bites will pass unobserved.
Let it be hoped that those who have read to the end of this chapter
and feel any inclination to give clear-water worming a trial will get
from that branch of the sport as much pleasure and satisfaction as the
writers have enjoyed, during those days in summer which come, alas, all
too seldom. Days which open with the incomparable freshness of a June
morning, continue with the brightest of skies, with songs of birds, and
murmuring streams, and close with the landscape wrapped in shadows. The
while great beetles drone by, and moths, white and brown, flutter out
of the grasses under foot, when it requires an effort to leave such a
wonderful world, and to re-enter the dwellings of man.
CHAPTER V.
MINNOW FISHING.
Minnow fishing, although barred on many streams, has much to be said
for it, if it be practised judiciously and at certain times of the
year, as it accounts for many of the larger fish whose cannibal habits
have grown in proportion to their years, and whose demise can in no way
be regretted. It may, therefore, fairly be said that the majority of
Northern rivers are benefited by a limited use of the minnow. But its
use must be _limited_, for it does a stream a great deal of harm, if,
from one end of the season to the other, it is daily raked with minnows,
natural and artificial, of all shapes and sizes. Besides, the practice is
unfair to those who wish to fish the fly, as trout are usually put down
for some considerable time after a minnow has been spun over them.
It is, moreover, a mystery why any man should wish to fish the minnow
during the early part of the year when trout rise readily to the fly.
Spinning should therefore be restricted to times of flood, as hereafter
described, and to the latter part of the season, excepting September.
When fish begin to come somewhat shyly at the worm during July and
August—fished in the method previously described—they are frequently in
the right mood for a minnow. At such times the waters are usually low and
clear; it therefore requires considerable dexterity to achieve success,
and there is no doubt that the minnow, fished under such conditions, is a
sporting method of angling; although it is a greater pleasure to land a
pound trout on a 00 hook than to kill a two pounder on the heavier tackle
required for minnow fishing.
With the evolution of the casting reel—its yearly improvements and new
inventions, all in aid of long distance casting—there is reason to
think that minnow fishing has been popularized at the expense of the
skill shown by the old-fashioned school, which, using a short line and
possessed of a good knowledge of the habits of its quarry, lured many an
old cannibal from under the tree roots, from behind some boulder, or from
the depths of an eddy, old villains that had battened for years upon the
young stock of the river.
One sees now, not without regrets, little of the old manner of fishing
the minnow, but far more of the method in which the minnow is thrown
as far as possible across stream, and then worked back to the angler
with very little idea of its being properly presented. The modern method
appears to require but little skill, knowledge or ingenuity, and it is by
a long way the nearest approach to “chuck and chance it” of any of the
methods of fishing described.
The long-distance casting reel has its uses, but in minnow fishing,
as in all other branches of angling, the man must adapt himself to
circumstances, and if he does so he will find that it is not always
necessary to throw a long way.
Out of all the reels on the market it would be presumptuous to say that
such and such a reel is best. Each has its advocates, and while one man
will swear by a certain make, the next may swear at it.
The rod should be short, 8 ft. 6 ins. or 9 feet, and fairly stiff, though
not too stiff. If a preference may be expressed, it is for a rod that
just gives slightly as a minnow is drawn across the current, and for
light spinning the split-cane fly rod frequently serves very well.
The line to use with the majority of reels is made of fine waterproof
silk, as it does not kink so readily as an undressed one, but there are
certain reels on the market with which it is an absolute necessity to use
undressed lines, and for many it is claimed that their mechanism can be
so adjusted as to do away entirely with kinking.
Out of the many varieties of mount for the natural minnow there is none
so popular in the North (and deservedly so) as the “Ariel.” It is easily
baited; the lead (which can be had in various weights) is pushed into the
body of the bait, the bottom hook is put through the back just above the
tail, and the gut is then drawn tight until a slight bend is imparted
to the minnow; the other hooks are then put into either side so as to
hold the bait in position. There is one point of importance which must
be carefully watched in baiting the tackle. The fore part of the minnow
must be perfectly straight; if this is not so and there is a curve in
that part of the body, instead of spinning cleanly, the minnow will come
towards the angler with an intoxicated wobble, which is fatal to good
results.
The variety of artificial minnows offered to fishermen is truly
bewildering, and life is far too short for the writers to have tested
even a tithe of them; but there is one which has invariably proved a
killer in a coloured water, and that is the “Devon.” It is sold in all
sizes from one inch upwards and in a variety of colours. The virtues of
this minnow lie, in all probability, in its particularly brilliant spin,
and it is the writers’ practice always to have two or three sizes handy,
in gold, brown and blue.
To them it is a proven fact that the artificial is never so good as the
natural; for a trout if he once runs at an artificial, but is not hooked,
will seldom come again. Whereas with a natural minnow, once the trout
has tasted blood, he often cannot resist the temptation to have a second
go, unless he has been badly scratched; and in some instances, he will
come again and again until finally hooked. There are, however, times when
natural minnows seem more difficult to get than trout; and for a clear
water on such occasions, a light Phantom, or one of the many excellent
reproductions of the minnow sold by fishing tackle houses can be used.
The trace should be from three to five feet in length, the former being
long enough for a coloured water, and the latter short enough for the
clearest conditions. It should, for average use, be of finest undrawn
gut, though when using very small minnows in a low clear water, a much
finer quality is to be recommended.
To obviate kinking of the cast and line, and to get a nice free spin,
it is, of course, necessary to use swivels on the trace. Of these the
angler should always carry a supply of various sizes, and at least two
should be put on to the cast. The writers’ practice is more often than
not to use three, increasing slightly in size as the distance from the
minnow increases. And in preference to the use of lead on the trace, they
are always for having it concealed in the body of the minnow whenever
possible.
The most silvery natural minnows are undoubtedly the best. They should be
from an inch and a quarter to two inches in length, and they are perhaps
better used fresh than in any other condition. If they are put into a
bottle three parts full of water, corked, and carried in the pocket, they
may be kept alive the whole day, if the water be changed occasionally.
If the angler is anxious to keep the weight of his impedimenta down to
a minimum, salted minnows take up far less room than live ones and are
naturally much lighter, and it is doubtful whether they are appreciably
inferior to fresh ones. But preserved minnows, which have been kept in a
solution of formalin, are certainly not so good as fresh or salted ones,
as trout never seem to want to try a second bite, when they have been
missed the first time.
Minnow fishing as practised in a coloured water is comparatively easy,
and does not call for any great amount of dexterity. That branch of the
sport, therefore, may be dealt with first, with the prefatory remark that
the minnow at such times should be used judiciously and sparingly and
with a view to removing the cannibals from the river.
When a fresh is running, the minnow is used to best advantage when the
river begins to rise and again as it subsides, that is when it wears the
complexion known as “porter colour.” If on such occasions the angler
sees an odd fish or two rise in some eddy or back wash, he may count the
risers his if he spins with any skill at all.
[Illustration: _A Brook in Spring_
_Photo by N. N. Lee_]
If the angler knows of the stronghold of some monster trout grown ugly
and big on a diet of trout, minnows and bottom food, let him hasten
thither with all speed if a fresh comes down the river, and fish very
carefully round the ancient’s precincts, as in all probability he will
come from out his keep to seek for food round the edges of the stream,
and to seize any fry which he sees carried down by, and struggling
against, the rush of the water.
To fish a coloured water, the angler must throw his minnow well across
stream and then bring it round to his own side in a series of short
pulls, occasionally, where the current is strongest, allowing the force
of water to carry it a foot or two down stream, imitating more or less
what one would imagine the actions of some small fish would be that
had got into heavy water. And as trout will often follow a minnow from
one side of the river to the other before taking it, and as in flood
time they are to be found under the banks very close to the edge, it is
imperative that the angler should not lift the minnow out of the water
until he has worked it well up under the bank on which he stands, and
thoroughly searched the edges. It is impossible to lay too much stress on
this point, as it will be found that almost eight fish out of ten take
the minnow close to the edge, just as they become afraid that they may
lose their prey.
All slack waters, eddies and places out of the rush of heavy water, where
trout seek shelter in time of flood, should be fished; and, if it be
possible to cast the minnow upstream and to work it down, the reward will
be greater than that gained by the man who will not take the trouble to
fish as recommended.
The next point to consider is the strike, and it is in minnow fishing
that the angler’s self-control will be most highly taxed. As soon as he
feels a trout touch the minnow, he will be tempted to strike—the novice
will probably give a startled jerk and ruin his chances—but not until a
trout has got a good hold on the minnow should any strike be given; and
then it should be more of a firm steady strain than what is generally
known as a “strike.”
Minnow fishing in a clear water is very much more artistic, and at the
same time more difficult, than the methods previously described, for
it calls for precise and delicate casting, and requires an intimate
knowledge of the habits of trout. In the blazing days of late summer it
is very exhilarating to fish the minnow up some small clear tributary
stream or brook, at the most only a few yards wide; and to do so
successfully requires consummate skill.
In fishing waters of this description it is imperative that the minnow
be thrown directly upstream and then rapidly spun down. This latter
point must be attended to, otherwise the minnow coming down more or less
with the current, will not spin. The main stream, places under banks,
about submerged tree roots, and behind boulders, and the heads of rapid
streams, should all be carefully searched, and when the angler observes
a trout rush from its place of concealment at his minnow, he must keep a
firm hold upon his nerves and simply continue steadily to spin without
himself otherwise moving.
A trout bent upon the capture of a minnow becomes very unwary and will
frequently follow his prey almost to the feet of the angler, and, if the
angler remains as still as his spinning will allow, will often seize the
bait at the last moment. It is very necessary therefore to fish a cast
right out.
It is also wise in the main to adapt the size of the minnow, be it
natural or artificial, to the size of the water to be fished; and it
should always be remembered that a minnow is better too small than too
large. When fishing small tributary waters, or even thin water on the
main river, the weight of the lead or sinker may be materially reduced,
and a small minnow should be used.
When fishing the main river under low clear water conditions, _upstream_
methods must be rigidly adhered to, and the beginner may here be warned,
above all things, not to get into that mechanical method of fishing the
minnow now so prevalent, which is satisfied with long casts across the
river and recovery of line without any definite object in view, except to
get the minnow from _one side to the other_.
If a boulder resists the onward flow of the current near the far bank,
throw the minnow so that it drops gently into the water a foot or more
above the boulder; then spin down past it. If nothing happens then, try
the other side of the rock. Should the water undermine the far bank, drop
the minnow in at the top of the run and spin down it; in fact try every
place, including the thinnest of water, that could contain a fish, and
use all the knowledge and intelligence you have; for you will need it
all, if you are to get any success in low clear water.
When a reach of quiet steady-flowing water is ruffled by a wind, it will
often yield good results to a minnow carefully fished. The edges should
be thoroughly worked and the angler should never fail to spin his minnow
alongside all patches of weed, as in such places minnows frequently
congregate, and a feeding trout knows where to find them.
Another type of spinning is afforded by a long reach of rapid water that
is broken up all over by boulders of every possible shape and size. In
such water the trout will not follow the minnow far; they will either
seize their prey as it passes them, or turn round and make a sudden rush
at it before it can get many inches below. Therefore it is best to fish
the minnow here with a short line and to spin the bait briskly down past
each boulder. For such water the longer fly rod will be found to be the
better weapon. The minnow is also sometimes useful when a gale of wind
in the middle of summer puts fly fishing out of the question.
To be able to command success with the minnow, either in clear water or
in brooks, is an accomplishment worth striving for. It is a sport that
gives the fisherman excitement in plenty, as the whole actions of the
trout are seen from beginning to end. And it is impossible to describe
adequately the fascination which holds the angler whose eyes are riveted
upon a fish rushing down upon his minnow, nor to tell the difficulty of
refraining from incontinently snatching away the minnow from a fish in
the act of seizing it.
Although minnow fishing has many attractions, when followed in times
of bright skies and low waters, it is perhaps more open to abuse
than any other of the fair methods of angling. For not only does the
indiscriminate use of the minnow, especially with the long-distance
casting reel in the hands of a persevering man—not necessarily a very
skilful one—work havoc amongst the fish, but it spoils the sport of
others, as a spun minnow usually puts fish down for some considerable
time. Therefore, in Club waters particularly, a man should be careful and
circumspect in the use of the minnow. For while its judicious use will do
good in removing fish that can well be done without, and will sometimes
provide a dish of trout when the fly is at a discount during the heat
of the day, say, in August, its use out of season will call down many
hard words. And while it is possible for one to work rapidly downstream,
raking the whole river across and across and thus spoil the sport of all
others on the water, a sportsman will choose his reach, fish it quietly
upstream, and leave his brethren of the fly in peace and undisturbed
enjoyment.
INDEX.
Across stream fly fishing, 39
Ant, Dressing for, 29
Ant, Season for, 14
Ariel Tackle, 94
Artificial Flies, See Flies
August Dun, Dressing for, 28
August Dun, Season for, 14
Autopsy, 34, 57, 63
Bites, Method of detecting in upstream Worm Fishing, 90
Black Gnat, 56, 57, 60
Black Gnat, Dressing for, 24
Black Gnat, Season for, 13
Bodies of Flies, 8, 10
Broughton’s Point, Dressing for, 18
Broughton’s Point, Season for, 13
Brown Owl, Dressing for, 20
Brown Owl, Season for, 13
Cast, 37, 64, 66, 73, 95
Cast, Gut, How to Taper, 38
Casts, Rapidity of in Wet-fly Fishing, 46
Casting Reel, 92, 93
Chalk Streams, 37, 42, 53
Chuck and Chance it, 42, 93
Coachman, 58, 60
Coloured Water, Size of Flies for, 10
Costa, 53
Creeper, Description of, 63
Creeper Fishing, Rod for, 64
Creeper Fishing, Tackle for, 64
Creeper, Method of Baiting, 64
Creeper, Method of Collecting, 63
Creeper, Method of Fishing, 65
Dark Needle, Dressing for, 19
Dark Needle, Season for, 13
Dark Olive Dun, 60
Dark Sedge, Dressing for, 25
Dark Sedge, Season for, 14
Dark Silverhorns, Dressing for, 28
Dark Silverhorns, Season for, 14
Dark Snipe, Dressing for, 17
Dark Snipe, Season for, 13
Dark Watchet, Dressings for, 20, 21
Dark Watchet, Season for, 13
Devon Minnows, 94
Diptera, 52
Dotterel, Dressing for, 22
Dotterel, Season for, 13
Downstream, When to Fish Fly, 40
Drag, 46, 60, 78, 81, 87, 88, 89
Dressings of Flies, 16 et seq.
Droppers, Dressed to Hair, 9
Dry Flies, List of, 60
Dry-Fly Fishing, Rod for, 37
Dry-Fly, Times for Fishing, 54
Dubbing, Mixture of, 9
Eden, 82
Entomology, 34
Evening Rise, 57
Evening, Size of Flies for, 58
Far-off and Fine, 45
Fisherman’s Curse, 59
Flies, Bodies of, 8, 10
Flies, Dressed lightly, 10
Flies, Dressed to gut, 8
Flies, Dressed to hair, 8
Flies, Dressings of, 16 et seq.
Flies, Heads of, 10
Flies, Number on cast in Wet-fly Fishing, 36
Flies, Seasons of, 10, 13 et seq.
Flies, Size of, for Coloured Water, 10
Flies, Size of, for Evening Fishing, 58
Flies, Tables of, 13 et seq.
Flies, To err on small side, 10
Flies, Winged, 9, 11
Fly Dressing, McClelland’s Book on, 7
Fly, Taking, Fished as point, 12
Formalin, Minnows preserved in, not recommended, 96
General Use, Rod for, 37
Ginger Spinner, Dry, Dressing for, 30
Ginger Spinner, Dry, Season for, 14
Ginger Spinner, Wet, Dressing for, 24
Ginger Spinner, Wet, Season for, 13
Gnats, 57
“Gossamer,” Pearsall’s Silk, 9
Gravel Bed, Dressing for, 23
Gravel Bed, Season for, 13
Greased Line, 64, 90
Green Insect, Dressing for, 29
Green Insect, Season for, 14
Greenheart Rod, 36
Greenwell’s Glory, Dressing for, 16
Greenwell’s Glory, Season for, 13
Gut, Tapered Cast, 38
Gut, Flies dressed to, 8
Hackle Points, 11
Hair, Flies dressed to, 8
Halford, Mr. F. M., Patterns of Flies of, 60
Hardy’s Hooks, 8
Heads of Flies, 10
Hickory Rod, 36
Hooks, 8, 64, 66, 73, 74
Hooks, Hardy’s, 8
Hooks, Short in Shank, 8
Inner Side of Feather, 9
Insect Life, Knowledge of, 33, 34
Iron Blue Dun, 56, 60
“Jacks,” 66
July Dun, Dressing for, 26
July Dun, Season for, 14
Kinking, 93, 95
Knotted Midge, Dressing for, 23
Knotted Midge, Season for, 13
Leads, 74, 89, 94, 95, 99
Light Needle, Dressing for, 21
Light Needle, Season for, 13
Light Sedge, Dressings for, 25
Light Sedge, Season for, 14
Light Silverhorns, Dressing for, 27
Light Silverhorns, Season for, 14
Light Snipe, Dressing for, 19
Light Snipe, Season for, 13
Lightly Dressed Flies, 10
Line, 37, 64, 66, 73, 90, 93, 95
Line, Short for Upstream Fly Fishing, 45
Line, To be greased, 64, 90
Lune, 54
Maiden Dew Worms, 74
March Brown, Dressings for, 18, 19
March Brown, Season for, 13
McClelland’s Book on Fly Dressing, 7
Metamorphosis of Creeper, 65
Minnow Fishing, in a clear water, 98
Minnow Fishing, in a coloured water, 96
Minnow Fishing, in a wind, 101
Minnow Fishing, Rod for, 93, 100
Minnow Fishing, Season for, 92
Minnow Fishing, Tackle for, 94
Minnow Fishing, Upstream, 98, 99, 102
Minnow, Where to Fish, 96
Minnows, Better too small than too large, 99
Minnows, in Formalin, 96
Minnows, Method of Baiting with, 94
Minnows, Method of keeping alive, 96
Minnows, Natural better than Artificial, 94
Minnows, Salted, 96
Oil Tip, 36, 55, 90
Olive Bloa, Dressing for, 20
Olive Bloa, Season for, 13
Olive Dun, 60
Orange Partridge, Dressing for, 17
Orange Partridge, Season for, 13
Outer Side of Feather, 9
Pale Watery Dun, Dressing for, 27
Pale Watery Dun, Season for, 14
Pearsall’s “Gossamer” Silk, 9
Pennell Tackle for Creeper and Stone-Fly Fishing, 64
Pennell Tackle for Upstream Worm Fishing, 73
Phantom Minnow, 95
Pinktail Worms, 74
Pink Wickham, 58, 60
Point Fly, 12
Poult Boa, Dressing for, 22
Poult Bloa, Season for, 13
Primary Feathers, 9
Rapidity of Casts in Wet-Fly Fishing, 46
Red Quill, 60
Red Spinner, dry, Dressing for, 30
Red Spinner, dry, Season for, 14
Red Spinner, wet, Dressing for, 26
Red Spinner, wet, Season for, 14
Reel, 37, 73, 92, 93
Ribble, 54
Rod for Creeper Fishing, 64
Rod for Dry-Fly Fishing, 37
Rod for General Use, 37
Rod for Minnow Fishing, 93, 100
Rod for Stone Fly Fishing, 66
Rod for Upstream Worm Fishing, 73
Rod for Wet-Fly Fishing, 36
Rough-Bodied Poult, Dressing for, 27
Rough-Bodied Poult, Season for, 14
Salted Minnows, 96
Season of Flies, 10, 13 et seq.
Secondary Feathers, 9
Sedge Flies, 57
Short-Bodied Flies, 8
Short Line for Upstream Fly Fishing, 44
Silk, Pearsall’s “Gossamer”, 9
Silk, Shades of, 9
Silk, Waxed, 9
Silver Sedge, 57, 60
Single Hook Worm Tackle, 73
Small Side, Artificials to err on, 10
Smuts, 52
Spinners, 8, 52, 57
Spinners, Wing for, 11
Spinning, Rod for, 93, 100
Split-Cane Rod, 37, 93
Split Shot, 74, 89
Spring Black, Dressing for, 17
Spring Black, Season for, 13
Stewart, Rod recommended by, 72
Stewart Tackle, 74
Stone Flies, Females, 66
Stone Flies, Males, 66
Stone Fly, Description of, 62
Stone-Fly Fishing, Rod for, 66
Stone-Fly Fishing, Tackle for, 66
Stone Fly, Method of Baiting, 66
Stone Fly, Method of Fishing, 66
Stone Midge, Dressing for, 23
Stone Midge, Season for, 13
Strike, Timing of, 41, 56, 65, 67, 78, 81, 86, 98
Swivels, 95
Tackle for Creeper Fishing, 64
Tackle for Minnow Fishing, 94
Tackle for Stone-Fly Fishing, 66
Tackle for Upstream Worm Fishing, 73, 74
Tail of Pool, Upstream Worm Fishing of, 88
Taking Fly, Fished as Point, 12
Tapered Cast, How to Make, 38
Trace, 95
Transparent Wax, 9
Under Side of Wing of Artificial, 9
Upstream Fly Fishing, 41
Upstream Fly Fishing, Short Line for, 44
Upstream Minnow Fishing, 98, 99, 102
Upstream Worm Fishing in still water, 85
Upstream Worm Fishing, Method of, 76
Upstream Worm Fishing, Method of detecting Bites, 90
Upstream Worm Fishing, Rod for, 73
Upstream Worm Fishing, Season of, 70
Upstream Worm Fishing, Secret of Success in, 72
Upstream Worm Fishing, Tackles for, 73, 74
Upstream Worm Fishing, Wrong Method of, 82
Vibrate Rod Point, 41
Waders for Upstream Worming, 74
Waterhen Bloa, Dressing for, 16
Waterhen Bloa, Season for, 13
Wax, Transparent, 9
Waxed Silk, 9
Wet Flies, Number on Cast, 36
Wet-Fly Fishing, Methods of, 39
Wet-Fly Fishing, Rod for, 36
Wharfe, 54, 57
Wind, Effect of, on Haunts of Flies, 52
Wind, Upstream Worm Fishing in a, 87
Wing for Spinners, 11
Wing of Artificial, under side, 9
Winged Flies, 9, 11
Winter Brown, Dressing for, 16
Winter Brown, Season for, 13
Wool on Cast in Upstream Worm Fishing, 90
Worm Tackles, 73, 74
Worms, 74
Yellow-Legged Bloa, Dressing for, 22
Yellow-Legged Bloa, Season for, 13
Yellow Partridge, Dressing for, 21
Yellow Partridge, Season for, 13
_Printed by Percy Lund, Humphries &. Co., Ltd., Priestman
Street, Bradford, and 3, Amen Corner, London, E.C._
24422
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