President's Journal February 2006
Wednesday, 01 February 2006, 11:16 p.m. CST
Why tie pretty flies?
You hear it frequently. It's a story told so often, by so many people, in so many places, that it has to be true (doesn't it?) It's the story about the ratty, chewed-on, bedraggled fly that catches fish like a bandit, putting its beautiful, well-proportioned brethren to shame. Another version is that the beautiful well-tied fly really starts "working" after it has been chewed on and chewed up, until it's nothing but a few tufts of organic detritus, loosely clinging to a hook.
So, it's a fair question: Why tie pretty flies?
Well, for starters, there is another category of stories, having to do with big trout in slow water. They slowly float backwards under a fly, evaluating it before either deciding it's worth a shot, or slowly sinking down to the bottom, there to stay until, you, clumsy tier, give up and go away. They took their time, judged your fly, and found it lacking. This happens more in still water than in streams, but I've seen it on both waters. On the Frying Pan, in hot dry weather, my PMDs turned up noses, but A.K. Best's melon quill PMDs drew the few strikes I got on PMDs. On a cold wintry lake in southern England, Goddard caddis tied by the Keeper were the only flies to draw strikes on the surface -- he knew how to shape the deer hair to match the big lake caddis that occasionally hatched.
When the fish are "on", I think they make quick decisions, aren't too judgmental, and my amateur flies will draw strikes. But when conditions are marginal or worse, the fish are cautious, and that beautiful well-proportioned and properly-colored fly may mean the difference between catching a few and getting skunked. If the only time we fished was when the fish were "on", it'd be easy, wouldn't it? You can make mistakes, present poor flies, and still catch fish like mad. Too bad we can't all adjust our schedules to only fish then. Too bad we don't live on water where we can just walk outside, test conditions, and only give it time when things are good. Too bad we have jobs and families and obligations. But we do, so why not swing the chances in our favor?
Since we devote more of our memory to success than to failure, we remember the fish that took that ratty beat-up fly, and we forget the many trout who rejected our mis-proportioned flies. We also remember most-recent events better than previous ones. The last fish caught weighs more in our memory than does the first fish of the day. The first fish of the day may have struck at a new fly, while the last one may have been shown the chewed-up version. Oh, yeah, as for that chewed-on fly out-fishing the bright shiney fly, well, just how exactly did that ratty fly get chewed-up anyway? By drawing strikes, I think.
Finally, there is something to be said for pursuing beauty for its own sake. Craftsmen and women, whether they work wood, sew fabric, or tie flies, get something out of pursuing perfection. Just the fact of paying attention to what's beautiful and what isn't, makes you a better person. Beauty is pleasing, and ugliness isn't (however we personally define each). Life is short, why not pursue beauty in our craft and have a little more pleasure?
Our February meeting is devoted to fly-tying techniques. And the pursuit of a little more beauty.
Lee