CHAPTER IV

SUPPLEMENTARY IN THE MATTER OF FLIES

OF WET-FLY DRESSINGS FOR CHALK STREAMS.

Assuming that we have made up our minds to test the wet fly upon chalk streams, it must be taken as an axiom that the ordinary patterns of the dry fly will not do. They are built to dry and to float. The patterns required must be built to soak and to sink. Therefore bodies and hackles which throw the water must be rejected in favour of bodies and hackles which take up the water or readily enter it. So dubbed bodies in place of quills, hen hackles in place of cock’s, and of these a minimum of turns in place of a maximum; and if whisks are used, they, too, must be soft and soppy. For the same reason, wing material, if employed, should be so arranged as to take up the maximum of water, and to let it go as unwillingly as possible. Furthermore, the bulk of material in proportion to the hook metal must be reduced as far as possible.

Given these requirements, let us look around, as I did, among all the various systems of wet-fly dressing in use, from John o’ Groat’s to Land’s End, and see what features we ought to borrow from them. If we make up our minds, as I think we shall, that it is desirable to expose the body of our fly freely, we shall not adopt any system which lays the wings low over the back of the fly, that type being designed to secure what is called “a good entry” for a dragging fly, and we have nothing to do with dragging flies or any form of river raking or dredging, or with any flies which, like the Devonshire types, carry superabundance of bright cock’s hackles. So we are limited to the systems which dress their flies with upright wings, like the Tweed and Clyde types, and to the soft hackled Yorkshire style.

The conditions, however, of our waters confine us to tiny patterns—Nos. 0 and 00 hooks in the vast majority of cases, and occasionally No. 1—and the supply of tiny soft absorbent hackles from birds other than poultry, sufficiently small to leave the body well exposed, is hardly to be had. So, taking one consideration with another, it would seem that the Tweed and Clyde patterns, being used on a broad and in many places equablyflowing river, will have advantages enough to invite a trial.

Now, what are the features of the Tweed and Clyde patterns? First there is the spare body, dressed with tying silk only, with or without wire ribbing, or lightly dubbed with soft fur, making an absorbent dubbing; then a small and lightly-dressed soft hackle, two turns at the outside, close up behind a pair of wings tied in a bunch, and either left single or, preferably for our purposes, split in equal portions, and divided with the figure-of-eight application of the tying silk behind the wings and in front of the head, the whole tied on a rank, and not too light, round-bend hook.

It will be suggested that the trout does not see the winged dun under water. That is approximately, though not quite absolutely, true; but for all that, being in some respects rather a stupid person, if size and colour are right, he will not make much bones of the position of the fly with reference to the surface being incorrect. It might be supposed, again, that a hackled pattern would better suggest the nymph stage than a winged pattern. This may be true, but the theory has yet to be worked out in much detail before one can dogmatize about it. Elsewhere my preliminary efforts in this direction are described. Here I could say that the wings built up of a length of feather rolled into a bunch have the advantage of taking up a lot of water, and not releasing it readily; and they also assist to let the fly down more lightly on the water than so lightly dressed a fly would fall but for the wings. To let a hackled fly down as lightly, one would need a lighter wire and a larger hackle. The wings also help the fly to swim correctly in the water, with the weight of the straight, unsnecked, round-bend hook as the counterpoise to the parachute action of the wings.

My own belief is that wet flies tied on gut swim better and hook better than those tied on eyed hooks. As the drying action of casting is reduced to a minimum, they are not so ready to go at the neck as when used as dry flies; but if the angler prefers it, there is no reason why he should not use eyed hooks, though snecked bends of any kind and upturned eyes are deprecated. Down-eyed hooks, round, unsnecked, square-bend, and Limerick, in the order named, are recommended.

When immediate sinking in rather fast water is required, additional weight can be got by tying on a second hook, and making the fly what is technically known as a “double.” These are more easily tied on gut than on eyed hooks, though there is a maker who supplies eyed hooks for doubles in sizes Nos. 1, 0, and 00, one packet containing the eyed hook, and the other the shorter-shanked companion hook to be lashed on. In either case the hooks have to be separated with the thumb-nail, so as to stand at an angle of 45 to 60 degrees before using. Lest it should be suggested that these double hooks, fished wet, lend themselves to a form of snatching, let me say that I can only recall a single instance of a trout being hooked on a wet double otherwise than fairly in the mouth, and in the course of my experiments I have given them an extensive trial.

The range of wet-fly patterns required is not extensive. I have found the following serve all practical purposes:

1. ROUGH OLIVE.

_Wings_: Darkest starling.

_Body_: Heron herl from wing feather dyed brown-olive, and ribbed with fine gold wire.

_Legs_: Dirty brown-olive hen hackle, with dark centre and yellowish-brown points.

_Hook_: No. 1.

2. GREENWELL’S GLORY.

_Wings_: Hen blackbird, dark starling, medium starling, or light starling (lighter as season advances).

_Body_: Primrose or yellow tying silk, more or less waxed (lighter as season advances), ribbed with fine gold wire.

_Legs_: Dark furnace hen hackle (black centre, with cinnamon points) to medium honey dun (lighter as season advances).

_Hook_: No. 1, 0, or 00.

3. BLUE DUN.

_Wings_: Snipe.

_Body_: Water-rat on primrose or yellow tying silk. Vary body by dressing with undyed heron’s herl from the wing, and ribbing with fine gold or silver wire.

_Legs_: Medium blue hen.

_Hook_: No. 1 or 0.

4. IRON BLUE.

_Wings_: Tomtit’s tail.

_Body_: Mole’s fur on claret tying silk.

_Legs_: Honey-dun hen with red points.

_Hook_: No. 0 or 00.

5. WATERY DUN.

_Wings_: Palest starling.

_Body_: Hare’s poll or buff opossum on primrose tying silk.

_Legs_: Ginger hen’s hackle.

_Hook_: No. 00.

6. HARE’S EAR.

_Wings_: Dark or Medium starling.

_Body_: Hare’s fur from lobe at root of ear; rib, narrowest gold tinsel or fine gold wire.

_Legs_: A few fibres picked out or placed between the strands of the silk and spun.

_Hook_: No. 1 or 0.

7. BLACK GNAT.

_Wings_: Palest snipe rolled and reversed.

_Body_: Black tying silk with two turns of black ostrich herl or knob of black silk at shoulder.

_Legs_: Black hen or cock starling’s crest, two turns at most.

_Hook_: No. 00.

It will be observed that hooks a size larger than those employed for floaters can often be used.

The very short range of hackled patterns is dealt with later.

OF THE IMPORTANCE OF THE COLOUR OF TYING SILK IN DUBBED FLIES.

Years ago I spent a week upon the Teme, fishing wet, and I remember looking down one sunny morning upon my cast in shallow water, and being struck by the appearance of my Yellow Dun. The body was dubbed with primrose wool, but though, while dry or in the air, every turn of the tying silk was completely hidden, yet, looking down upon the fly in the water, I could see every turn distinctly, and the dubbing was scarcely noticeable, and I was glad that the tying silk harmonized so perfectly with the hue of the dubbing.

The importance of the base colour of the tying silk was still more strongly brought home to me a day or two later. I had tied some imitations of a pale watery dun which was on the water with a pale starling wing, light ginger hackle and whisk, and a mixture of opossum and hare’s poll for dubbing; but some I had tied with pale orange silk, and some with that rich maroon colour called Red Ant in Mr. Aldam’s series of silks. The grayling took those tied with pale orange freely, but would not look at those tied with Red Ant.

It maybe of less consequence for floating flies, but for wet flies I have since always been careful to have the tying silk either harmonious with the colour of the natural subimago, or corresponding to the colour of the spinner. For instance, for an Iron Blue Dun I should use claret silk dubbed with mole’s fur or water-rat; for the old-fashioned mole’s fur Blue Dun, primrose to heighten the olive effect in the dark blue; primrose silk also for a Hare’s Ear; in the Willow-Fly, orange silk under the mole’s fur or water-rat; in the Grannom, green very darkly waxed, or black; and so on. The fact is that the transparency of fur and feather is marvellous. A starling’s wing looks much denser than a dun’s, but place it over print, and you can read every word through; and fur is practically as transparent when wet.

OF THE IMITATION OF NYMPHS, CADDIS, ALDER LARVÆ, AND SHRIMPS.

For some time after my introduction to Tup’s Indispensable I used it only as a dry fly, but one July I put it over a fish without avail, and cast it a second time without drying it. It was dressed with a soft hackle, and at once went under, and the trout turned at it and missed. Again I cast, and again the trout missed, to fasten soundly at the next offer. It was a discovery for me, and I tried the pattern wet over a number of fish on the same shallow, with most satisfactory results. I thus satisfied myself that Tup’s Indispensable could be used as a wet fly; and, indeed, when soaked its colours merge and blend so beautifully that it is hardly singular; and it was a remarkable imitation of a nymph I got from a trout’s mouth.

The next step was to try it on bulging fish, and to my great delight I found it even more attractive than Greenwell’s Glory. It was the foundation of a small range of nymph patterns, but for under-water feeders, whether bulging or otherwise, I seldom need anything but Tup’s Indispensable, dressed with a very short, soft henny hackle in place of the bright honey or rusty dun used for the floating pattern. The next I tried was a Blue-winged Olive. There was a hatch of this pernicious insect one afternoon. The floating pattern is always a failure with me, and in anticipation I had tied some nymphs of appropriate colour of body, and hackled with a single turn of the tiniest blue hackle of the merlin. It enabled me to get two or three excellent trout which were taking blue-winged olive nymphs greedily under the opposite bank, and which, or rather the first of which, like their predecessors, had refused to respond to a floating imitation. The body was a mixture of medium olive seal’s fur and bear’s hair close to the skin, tied with primrose silk, the whisk being short and soft, from the spade-shaped feather found on the shoulder of a blue dun cock.

Another pattern, successful in the last two months of the season, is dressed with a very short palish-blue dun or honey dun hen’s hackle, a body of hare’s poll tied on pale primrose silk, with or without a small gold tag and palest ginger whisks. But it is evident that on this subject I am only at the beginning of inquiry. Of course there is nothing very new in the idea of imitating nymphs. The half stone is just a nymph generally ruined by over-hackling.

In July, 1908, I caught an Itchen fish one afternoon, and on examining his mouth I found a dark olive nymph. My fly-dressing materials were with me, and I found I had a seal’s fur which, with a small admixture of bear’s hair, dark brown and woolly, from close to the skin, enabled me to reproduce exactly the colours of the natural insect. I dressed the imitation with short, soft, dark blue whisks, body of the mixed dubbing tied with well-waxed bright yellow silk, and bunched at the shoulder to suggest wing-cases, the lower part of the body being ribbed with fine gold wire. Two turns of a very short, dark rusty dun hackle completed the imitation, much to my satisfaction.

Apparently it was no less agreeable to the trout, for, beginning to fish next morning at ten o’clock, I found six fish rising on a shallow. I began with a small Red Sedge, as no dun was yet on the water, and missed several of them. Then, putting up Pope’s Green Nondescript, I again missed three fish in succession. I then bethought myself of my nymph, and, knotting it on, in a few minutes I had five of the six fish, and had lost the other. I then found a trout feeding in a run, evidently under water. I made a miscast at him, and he came a yard across to take the nymph, but did not take a good hold, for I lost him, only to secure a better fish a few moments later. It then came on to blow and pelt with rain in such sort as to render it no sort of pleasure to continue fishing, and I knocked off at eleven o’clock, with three brace as the result of an hour’s fishing.

I have made me a shallow spoon-shaped net of butterfly-net material to attach to the ring of my landing-net. It has the advantage of taking anything which comes down the stream, whether on or under the surface, and its practical use demonstrates itself in more ways than one. For instance, in September, 1909, I went down to the river about 9.30, and, having put my rod together, sank my net in the water, and watched for what came down. There were a number of tiny diptera, but no trace of dun or nymph. I therefore concluded that it would be some time before the trout would be lined up under the banks, and that I could safely go away for an hour, and try certain carriers where the feeding of fish is not dependent on the rise. I did this, and put in over an hour’s exciting, if not very remunerative, sport before returning to the main river. The rise came on about 11.30. But for my net I might have wasted all the time on the bank, instead of conducting a siege of three very handsome trout, and bringing up two of them.

On occasion I have found a Dotterel dun tied with yellow tying silk on a No. 00 hook, and hackled with the tiniest dotterel hackle, after the manner of Stewart (_i.e._, not hackled all at the head, but palmer-wise for halfway down the short body), quite remunerative fished wet. This, I imagine, is taken for a dun emerging.

But it is not only duns whose nymphal stages may be imitated. I borrowed a tube containing some nearly full-grown larvæ of the alder, and though I am given to understand that in this stage the alder passes the greater part of its existence in the black mud formed by decaying vegetation, I made a sort of imitation of them which rather pleased me, and I tried it in Germany in mid-May. Whether the trout are or are not familiar with the natural insect in this stage I cannot say, but they took the imitation with such avidity that I speedily wore out my three specimens. They were only made as an experiment, and I tried no more, as I felt qualms in my mind as to whether it was quite the game to imitate this insect in this stage, any more than it would be to fish an imitation of the caddis. I am therefore not giving my recipe. Nor do I give that for making a caddis or gentle which I once tried, with mad success for a few minutes, and gave up, conscience-stricken. I have since seen alder larvæ in a glass tank in the Insect House at the Zoological Gardens, and, though their conditions are there no doubt quite artificial, they were swimming so freely and seemed so much at home in the water that I think it more than probable that they venture into the open often enough to be familiar to the trout. The long pale trailing processes along their sides suggested to me whether there was not to be found in the alder larvæ the prototype of the bumble.

I was at one time greatly interested in an attempt to imitate the fresh-water shrimp, and I tied a variety of patterns, including several with backs of quill of some small bird dyed greenish-olive, and ribbed firmly while wet and impressionable with silk or gold wire; but somehow I never used or attempted to use any one of them. I, however, gave one to an acquaintance, and he tied it on, and, standing on a footbridge, cast it downstream over some trout which were reputed uncatchably shy. At the first cast a big fish rushed at the shrimp, slashed it, and went off leaving the one-time owner lamenting.