The first fish I ever caught on the first decently tied dry fly I ever tied (a #14 Adams) was a brute of a sucker that sucked it in off the top. I don't
know if he turned over to do that. Last year, fishing where rainbows are not that common, but typically 15" to 20," I had found where they seemed to
be and caught a couple on a beaded hare's ear, which they hammered as the fly trailed after a swing. I missed another jolt; it happens. Then I had another
pounding strike, and the fish went down current well into my backing a immediately, swirling and jumping occasionally in the low reddish sunlight. I gradually
worked it back to me after a few more runs downriver, the thrashing having subsided by now. It was half again as big as the rainbows of the day, but it had
scales and one of those mutant mouths. Fortunately, I managed to shake it off the hook without having to touch it.
I generally fish right around that spot now, having noticed that those things tend to congregate on a little bar, in a shallow glide where polarized glasses help you see them. I've seen other guys fishing over them, probably thinking they are rainbows, which do get pretty outsized in that river. I never see them catch one, and once a guy I'd been watching asked if I wanted to try the spot, indicating there were some big fish there, but he'd thrown everything at them for the last couple hours. I handed him my polarized glasses instead.
These torpedos on casual glance might get the heart to thumping. To me they bring back memories of the same view from high overlooks on the Upper Saranac and Ausable in New York, famed Catskill streams like the Esopus and Beaverkill, and various tributaries to Lake Superior. Compared to the trout in some of those over-rated rivers, they at least could be measured in pounds rather than inches. They are like way majorly ubiqitous, so "natives" is a great name for them.
If somebody crowds me and makes me cranky up at the spot of that recent episode, I might just have to say, "Listen, there's a concentration of big natives down on that bar. They're not suckers for any small fly like these little trout up here, but that's the challenge of it. I was going to try it, but you're welcome to go on down there and have a crack at 'em."
I generally fish right around that spot now, having noticed that those things tend to congregate on a little bar, in a shallow glide where polarized glasses help you see them. I've seen other guys fishing over them, probably thinking they are rainbows, which do get pretty outsized in that river. I never see them catch one, and once a guy I'd been watching asked if I wanted to try the spot, indicating there were some big fish there, but he'd thrown everything at them for the last couple hours. I handed him my polarized glasses instead.
These torpedos on casual glance might get the heart to thumping. To me they bring back memories of the same view from high overlooks on the Upper Saranac and Ausable in New York, famed Catskill streams like the Esopus and Beaverkill, and various tributaries to Lake Superior. Compared to the trout in some of those over-rated rivers, they at least could be measured in pounds rather than inches. They are like way majorly ubiqitous, so "natives" is a great name for them.
If somebody crowds me and makes me cranky up at the spot of that recent episode, I might just have to say, "Listen, there's a concentration of big natives down on that bar. They're not suckers for any small fly like these little trout up here, but that's the challenge of it. I was going to try it, but you're welcome to go on down there and have a crack at 'em."
